


Young and Beautiful

by NicoleEdxAl



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Anxiety, Bulimia, Eating Disorders, M/M, Purging, Self-Harm, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-14 17:12:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9195608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicoleEdxAl/pseuds/NicoleEdxAl
Summary: When Yuuri decides to become a professional skater, there are no lengths he won't go to in order to make it happen.





	1. Chapter 1

 

I'd like to tell you my life isn't boring and plain, but then I'd be lying. I usually describe myself as bland and awkward which aren't two traits a lot of people would enjoy. I don't have friends because of that and I don't blame anyone who backs away when they look at me. I'm not exactly approachable.

My appearance gives me likeness to the stereotypical dork and I blame the glasses. I've changed them three times to try and alter that, with no such luck. I'm not tall for my age and I'm scrawny beyond belief. Besides skin and bones, there's nothing much to me. Though, I'd prefer that than having extra fat on my legs or anywhere else to make me look like a balloon. I need to be thin in order to get places in life. That's what I'm always told anyways.

I tend to hide myself with thick coats and layer after layer, while throwing a scarf around my neck so I can pull it over my face. Unfortunately, I can't do that in the warmer seasons. It's autumn now, so I'm glad I don't have to get odd looks when I wear pants instead of shorts. It doesn't snow a lot here, but colder temperatures are nice.

My hobbies are non existent besides skating and a little ballet on the side. I know what you're thinking; a boy doing things like that? I must be asking to get laughed at. I'm the only guy who shows up at the rink after close and the only guy who puts on reinforced toed shoes and jumps around a bare room in front of a mirror. Laugh at me all you want, I know everyone else does. At least I enjoy it and my ballet teacher loves my enthusiasm.

I go to the rink after dark when everything shuts down. The owner is familiar with my situation and doesn't mind that I skate when no one is around. He's even nice enough to stay late and clear the ice when I'm done so no one has to know. It's so quiet and calming to be on the rink alone and skate lap after lap. I've been trying to lean how to do spins and jumps, but I'm not quiet good enough yet.

My blame goes to the professionals on TV. Family friends watch figure skating all the time when they come over and I can't help but get pulled in while laying on the couch. The way they move is flawless and they make it look so easy. Trying to imagine myself competing against any of them would be so far in left field and a dream I could never reach. I still try though.

The bus stops on the corner near my house, so I catch it all the time to get to the rink. I bring nothing but my skates and my wallet in case I feel like dropping by the corner store. The bus is always quiet at this hour so I don't have to worry about people staring. I sit in the back no matter what and glue my eyes on my phone to block out everything around me. My mom always wants me to text her that I'm alright anyways.

It's just after eight when I reach the front doors with the owner waiting patiently for me to show up. He locks them the moment I'm inside so no one else can disrupt me. I tell him thank you with a fumble of my glasses and he brushes it off like it's no big deal. His daughter is here sometimes and her smile never seems to die down. I don't mind her watching, because truth be told I have a little crush on her.

She's here today; sitting on the bleachers with a notebook and white chords in her ears connecting to her phone. She looks up and waves while wiping a strand of red hair from her eyes. I bet she's too busy to come talk, but that's alright. College takes up a lot of time.

I keep my things in the dressing room and pull on my skates; tapping the toe against the floor to make sure they're on right. I've had these for as long as I can remember and I still haven't outgrown them. They might have been my dad's now that I think about it. He's was one of the more enthusiastic ones of my family when I told them I wanted to get serious with skating. He just wants to get rich while I do all the hard work. He's been pushing me to get a coach even though I can manage on my own for now.

My glasses are placed on the side of the boards in their usual spot so I never lose them. I should learn to wear contacts, but they irritate my eyes too much. I'm not that blind, so I manage.

The first step onto the ice is the best. It's like opening the soft cover of a new book or making that first cut into a layered cake. Speaking of cake, I can't remember that the last time I had any and kept it down. It's a little too fatty for me. Sugar isn't good when it comes to losing weight.

Yuuko looks up from her work and neglects it on the bench the moment I touch the ice. She loves watching me skate for some reason. She told me she used to watch it all the time when she was little so it's nostalgic for her or something. I'm not nearly as good as he favourite skaters though. I get nervous when eyes are on me, but if it's just her, I don't mind too much.

It's rare for me to skate with music, so I make my own moves and twists to match songs in my head. It's my own little warm up and it works pretty well. I've been looking up different programs online and trying to copy them with no such luck. I can't get my body to move fluidly the way theirs can and I have to cut out the jumps because I'm a complete amateur. It would be really nice to make up my own routine someday.

I skate backwards slowly; lifting my leg to shift my weight to glide on one skate only. I had them sharpened last week and they're making perfect cuts into the ice over top of the ones left through out the day. I bet hundreds of people have been here skating with their partners, or parents with their kids, and I can't be there to see any of it. My reasoning would sound pretty stupid if I said them out loud. I'm scared of people, plain and simple.

“Yuuri!”

I eyes snap up and Yuuko is leaning against the boards waving me over. I hadn't even noticed she'd come down from the stands. I glide over while trying to hide the blush forming on my cheeks. I've known her since I started skating here and she's one of the only people who talks to me. I guess it's because her dad owns this place and she wants to know the loner kid who skates here.

“Have you found a coach yet?”

She wants me to get one too. She's more supportive of it than my dad is. He's only pushing it so I can get famous faster, but Yuuko actually wants me to succeed. There's nothing in it for her, so I know her suggestions are genuine. I suppose I could give this place more prestige, but I don't see how that would help her in the long run.

“Not yet... I don't see why I need one anyway.”

Part of that is not wanting to meet someone new and have them judge my failures. A coach will come in and expect the world when I can barely give him a country. What kind of figure skater doesn't know how to jump? The only time I tried, I ended up twisting my ankle and black and purple bruises down my side. Not what I'd call a success.

“You say you want to get better, so that's a good start.”

There's only so much I can teach myself even with access to the internet. All professionals have a coach to push them through and help them up when they fall. I keep hoping I can be the exception and do everything on my own. It's such a far fetched fantasy that I should just throw it in the trash already.

“But I don't know anyone.”

“Ask my dad. He must know hundreds with the amount of people that come here.”

I'd like her to ask instead. I don't want to bug to poor guy when he's been working overtime just so I can have a couple hours of rink time alone. I wouldn't know how to bring it up. I bet he would laugh at me for getting such a crazy thought in my head. Me? A professional? Give it up.

“Maybe...”

Call me the king of awkward. My eyes fall and I tap my fingers nervously on the boards thinking of a way to get out of this conversation. I love being around Yuuko, but sometimes I get too anxious to talk. It's just me and her and it's the opportunity all single boys would die for. Any normal guy would be asking her about college, or what she's been doing for the past few weeks, but none of that is registering to my mouth.

“Hey, Yuuri?...”

I look up and she's staring hard at me with those auburn eyes. Sometimes I get the feeling she can see right through me and know my feelings. There's no way she would fall for me out of all the guys in Japan. I bet she has a boyfriend already, not that I would know since I don't ask her those kinds of things. Not everything is going to fall into my lap perfectly that way I want it.

“Are you feeling alright? You look pale.”

So does everyone else around here, but me more so than usual. I've been on a sort of diet lately and it's not agreeing with me. I always feel weak and bags are starting to form under me eyes making me look like death.

“Yeah. I feel great.”

Lies. She doesn't need to know because she doesn't care. I bet if I told her she wouldn't be acting so interested. Being nice is what she does best. Now I feel sick to my stomach and want to go home. Why did she have to come down and talk? She smiles at my answer.

“I'm glad to hear it. I love coming here to watch you skate.”

I really wish that comment made me feel better. Instead, I push off the boards and head back to the ice to let my mind wander. Sometimes that can be dangerous. I'm still unsure about everything when it comes to skating. I spent three years of my life in college and I'm doing nothing with it. I've thrown away thousands of dollars on a piece of paper in favor of trying to become a professional figure skater. How many other guys have had the same dream and failed?

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I know it's my mom. I haven't texted her yet and she gets worried whenever I don't reply. It's because of that over protectiveness that I tend to keep her at an arms length at all times. She wants to know what I'm doing and what I'm feeling at every second of the day and it drives me insane. I'm 23 for god sakes, I can take care of myself, or at least that's what I tell myself. If that were true then I'd be living on my own.

I have the urge to get off the ice and leave when I see Yuuko's face. She's upset with me from the looks of it. All it would have taken was a few questions about how she's doing, or even some kind of response to the comment she made instead of turning around and saying nothing. I hate being mean to people, but that was the ultimate kick in the face. It's too late now. She's heading back up the stairs to grab her books and the damage has been done.

My concentration goes back to the ice bellow my feet and my twisted fantasy of becoming someone I'm not. If I can't perform something in front of one person, then how am I going to stop out in front of millions? Imagining these stands jam packed is enough to make my legs shake. A few deep breaths calms me and draws me back to reality where I'm still a useless kid with a dream.

Why am I even trying?

I skate back to the boards and grab my glasses suddenly wanting to throw them against the wall. Even if I could get a coach, I can't afford it. I don't have a job, so I'm living off of small payments I get from my parents. I've poured everything I have into this and I'd gotten nothing out of it. My stamina is the only thing going for me. At this point I'll have more luck becoming a track runner than an ice skater.

I'll need to apologize to the owner for having him go to so much trouble tonight. He can close early now that my time here has been ruined by a three phrase conversation. It would have been better off if I'd ignored Yuuko and kept skating like I always do. This is exactly why I don't have friends.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The house is quiet when I get home. It's better that way. My parents work full time to run a hot spring down the road. It's the only one that stays in business because of the scenery. It's popular all year round so there's never a shortage of work. My mom wants me to take over when she retires, but owning pools of steaming water aren't my exactly my aspirations. It does have it's perks though. I sneak in after closing and have my own personal stress reliever.

I drop my bag in my room and sneak out again, leaving no trace that I've been home. I use the old pillows under the blanket routine to give the impression I'm sleeping. I take the keys to the spring and enjoy the short walk. It's as quiet as ever with the moon being the only thing visible in the sheet of black in the sky. Stars are rare.

I enjoy night time. Everyone clears off the streets and there aren't so many eyes. There's the occasional passing car accompanied by headlights and that's enough to put me on a stage in front of thousands. I pull my hood over my head to make sure no one can look at me. People are a judgmental ass hole type of species. I have yet to find a person that doesn't think I look like a total dork.

My hands are in my pockets to keep them warm and hide the keys in case anyone asks where I'm going. I swear there's going to be a police officer standing outside the spring every time I get this nervous. My parents own the place, but it never looks good for someone my age to be sneaking around at this hour. They'd suspect me of a drug deal if anything, and there's no way I'd be able to talk myself out. Charm and charisma are two major things I lack.

The inside of the springs is black. I always use a pool in the far corner so no one can see the lights from the road. I'd love to use the rock pools outside, but that would be way too obvious. They come equipped with little waterfalls and tropical looking trees, so it's more therapeutic than being cooped up indoors. Those are the most popular and more expensive for obvious reasons.

I reach the front doors and try to look as discrete as possible while pulling out the keys. It doesn't take long for the alarm to go off, so I only have a few moments when it's unlocked. I thread the teeth and come inches from turning it before I'm knocked over. It wasn't wind that's for sure. I scramble to get up, but something large and soft is pinning me.

A dog? Where did it come from?

At least it's friendly so I don't have to worry too much about it biting my head off. It looks down at me, cocking it's head to the side while it's tail twirls around like a wind up toy. My hand reaches out to pat it's head and I'm rewarded with a wet tongue on my cheek.

“Good girl.”

A soft jingle catches my attention and my eyes are drawn to the tag around it's neck. _Makkachin_. Make that good boy instead. His fur is soft and curly, like the coat on any poodle. It's obvious he belongs to someone if the collar is any indication. Why would a beautiful dog like this run away?

“There you are Makka!”

The poodle perks up and bounds off my chest barking like a maniac. I stay on the sidewalk a little dumbfounded, propping myself on my elbow. I have to adjust my glasses a little from having the wind knocked out of me, but it's nothing I can't get over. Being ambushed by a dog is better than getting knocked over by a person.

“His leash broke, I'm so sorry.”

I can't see the dog's owner very well, but judging from his voice, he isn't from around here. I finally find the strength to stand up; brushing off my pants and coat which are covered in a thin layer of dirt.

“That's okay... he just startled me.”

This guy doesn't look too much older than me. He's tall and slender like a statue and could pass as a model. Not only because of his frame, but he's doesn't look half bad. I wonder what he's doing in Japan. He must have moved here, or maybe a tourist. I'm not about to find out though. He's crouched on the sidewalk with the poodle's paws on his lap; looking excited as ever to have a knotted leash back on.

“I suppose I should be thanking you. I could have been looking for him forever.”

He taps the poodle lightly on the nose as a punishment, scowling slightly to make the dogs' ears drop. It's funny how canines react so strongly to the human voice and facial expressions We used to have a cat when I was little and that thing couldn't care less if you got mad at it.

“It's no big deal.”

I turn back to the door with the key still stuck in the lock and I find a hand outstretched in front of my face. I look up and the guy is standing there with a shit eating smile on his face while the dog pants happily beside him. I don't need him to be in my debt all because his dog decided to play football for a few seconds.

“Spasibo.”

What did he just say?

“Yeah... sure.”

Just get me out of here so this doesn't turn into an uncomfortable situation. It's not like I saved his dog from getting hit by a car. There was no heroic gesture. The dog could have tackled anyone, so it was no amazing feat that I was standing here. I No longer care if he's wondering why I'm attempting to break into the hot springs while I fight with the key.

I nearly shove the door open and slam it closed behind me before the guy can say another word in his odd language. The alarm rings for a few seconds until I turn it off with the pass code burned into my brain. I head into the back because I know that guy is staring at me through the windows and I hate the feeling. All I want is an easy way to unwind and forget about all that crap I felt a few hours ago.

I find my usual pool and pull my shirt over my head; tossing everything into a scattered pile beside the towels. I can't imagine being here when it's busy. You would need a lot of confidence to walk around his place half naked in broad day light. I'd rather have my privacy thank you very much. My ants slide off onto the floor and that full body mirror across the room taunts me every time.

My steps are quiet as I approach it. My bare feet going completely inaudible on the smooth tile. I stand for a moment; turning my body to see every angle. My fingers pinch the fat on my thighs and around my waist, wishing I could rip it off and throw it in a dumpster. I'm not thin enough to be a figure skater. No one wants to watch a pig skate around. That nickname didn't appear out of thin air after all.

I've been trying so hard to get rid of the extra weight so I can fit the image. All professionals are flawless and shaped perfectly with toned muscle. I turn to the side and suck in my stomach; pressing my hand flat against it so it appears smaller. I'd like to think I've lost a good amount of weight, but it always feels like I gain it back.

Why do my legs look bigger than before? You've got to be kidding me. The only thing I've eaten today was a bowl of cereal. How could something so small make me gain five pounds? I feel sick to my stomach. If I wait any longer, I'll be back to weighing 160. It really is a curse how quickly I put on weight. Everyone in my family is the same; short and stocky, even my older sister. At least she carries it well.

I neglect the mirror and find the closest bathroom, locking the door behind me even though there's no one else here. Better to be safe than sorry. The cleaning staff have already been in so I won't need to worry about them.

The bathroom is pretty fancy considering where it is. There aren't any stalls so you get the place to yourself with a small counter and everything. I must look ridiculous being in here with nothing on but underwear. The mirror above the sink laughs at me when I walk by and I try my best to ignore it. I know I don't look right. I'm not thin enough to be a skater.

I get to my knees in front of the toilet, staring blankly into the water where I can see my own reflection. Even if I was good, no one would ever cheer for me. I bet everyone would start calling me pig or fat ass. It started as a running joke in my family, and eventually turned into physiological warfare. I know I'm fat and I don't need everyone around me being a constant reminder. When I look down, I see the rolls in my stomach and the creases where it should be flat. I want them gone.

My hand grips the edge of the bowl and the other trails up to my dried lips. I've done this before, so I know what to expect. It's been a few months now, and I only do it to get fast results. No diets work for me. Whenever I eat, I gain weight and it's that simple, so I make sure to get rid of it in order to can keep a decent size.

I take a breath and slide two fingers across my tongue; ultimately pressing them to the back of my throat. The motion I make is involuntary and my whole body lurches forward. Tears that come from no where slip from my eyes and down my cheeks into the bowl. Whatever small amount of contents I had in my stomach is now bellow me floating in the water and staining my fingers.

There's a short break to breathe before doing it again. I want to be empty. The sad thing is, I used to love food. I still do to some extent, but knowing what it does to my body forces me to shy away. If I eat too much then I feel disgusting and I can feel the weight growing around my stomach. Exercise is never enough. Besides, even if it was, I'm too weak to carry myself for a long time.

The fluid over my tongue tastes terrible and I gag at the smell. Spit trails from my lips and I clear it out with a few coughs. My throat is sore and might even be on fire. Catching my breath tends to be the hardest thing because of that. It hurts so bad, but I know it'll be worth it. If I'm thin, then I can be successful and that's all there is to it. When was the last time you saw an overweight athlete? I doubt they exist.

I wipe my lips with the back of my hand, doing my best to ignore the foul taste in my mouth. Bile is never pleasant. I flush everything down, wash my hands and face, and leave the bathroom behind me. I did my best to make it look like I was never in there. Even if something is dirty, my parents will think it was the janitor doing a terrible job. Though, I'd hate for him to get punished because of me.

The full length mirror is still on the wall despite how hard I wanted it to break or get up and walk away while I was gone. I look it over expecting immediate results. No such luck. I'm left to rotate on different angles until my body looks the way I want. Nothing will help my short torso, but I can fix the fat around my thighs and stomach.

All I need is a few minutes in the steamy water and I'll be fine. It takes a moment to get everything running after being shut down for the night, but I dip my feet in the water until it heats up; swirling them around to make little whirlpools. It's times like this that I tend to think more than I have to since I'm alone. Nothing else is on my mind and I either make weird plans for the future of spend too much time thinking about things I screwed up over the course of the day.

Like Yuuko. I bet she hates me now. I couldn't give her one little compliment after she gave one to me. I couldn't even look her in the eyes and all I did was skate away without saying a word. How sad can a person get? I know I'm not a flirt or anything, but I could have said _something_. There's too many 'what ifs'. I could always text her and apologize, but if she never responds then that will make me feel even worse.

It's not just Yuuko. Even that stranger from before looked at me like I was crazy. I was acting like he was a pedophile or something when he was only thanking me for getting his dog. Sad... that I found it easier to talk to the dog than him. Animals don't judge. They take you for who you are and all they expect is a pat on the head. Why couldn't I have been born as a dog?

I shake the thoughts from my head the best I can, slipping out of my boxers and hopping into the tub; letting out a sigh when the water reaches around my shoulders. It's the best kind of blanket. My body feels like it's melting, but in a good way. Hot springs are ten times better than your neighbors in-ground pool. Best of all, I have everything to myself and all the privacy in the world.

I reach back to my clothes and fumble with my pants. I left my phone somewhere and I should really text Yuuko and explain why I was being so weird. It's a hard thing to explain, but I'm sure she'll understand. I don't like many people, and I know her father has caught onto that, not that he'd tell her. I doubt I'm a high topic of interest at the dinner table.

I check every pocket and it turns into a slight moment of panic. All that relaxation goes out the window and I pull apart my clothes searching for that little black rectangle. There's no way I lost it. Had it at the rink. That's just my luck. Honestly, I should expect things like this to happen, so why am I surprised?

The best thing I can find is a towel to throw over myself and head to the front. I swear if that stupid dog made it fall out of my pocket I'm going to lose my marbles. I press my nose to the glass on the front door and move to the windows; straining my neck to see further down the street. Nothing. Neither the phone, the dog or the owner is anywhere to be seen. I'm thankful for that last bit. I'd have to wear a bag over my head if a stranger saw me half naked. On the other hand, I've lost my phone. That makes my stay here less enjoyable than I wanted it to be.

It has to be at the rink. Maybe I left it in the dressing room, or on the boards. Either way, If I lose that phone it, my dad will have my head. I'll need to head into the arena early tomorrow before anyone can steal it.

Not exactly now I want to spend my Saturday morning.

 


	3. Chapter 3

No one suspected a thing in the morning as usual. I managed to sneak back into the house with little to no noise and went straight to bed. I woke up to the smell of bacon and coffee, which could possibly be the best thing in the world. Typical breakfast foods that draw anyone from a dead sleep into the kitchen. It's routine for my mother to make a large breakfast on Saturday since the hot spring is closed.

I pull on my glasses, a shirt and new boxers before heading out to join the rest of the family. I reach for my phone, but then I remember how absent minded I was and forgot it at the rink. My mom smiles, my sister lights another cigarette and my dad glaces up from his paper. Hard to believe anyone still reads it, but he's pretty old school.

“Morning, Yuuri.”

I nod and pull out a chair. Looks like the food is almost done. I feel guilty a lot for not helping out, but my body is always so tired that I can't bring myself to get up. I tend to do the dishes to make up for it, which is more than I can say for anyone else.

“Your father has exciting news.”

My mom looks at me with a grin and I might end up hating what he's about to say. Our definitions of 'good news' differ way too much. I glance at my dad regardless while he sips his coffee pretending he doesn't hear us.

“Toshiya, tell Yuuri the good news.”

Lumps of eggs fall onto the plate in front of him from the pan in my mother's hand and I listen to each sickening splat. She always under cooks everything; not exactly a cooking expert, but she does make a good cutlet bowl. Probably the best in Japan.

“I found you a coach.”

He says it so nonchalant. I told him I don't want one until I'm ready, but looks like I don't have a choice. I lower my eyes and rub my fingers anxiously. As long as this so called coach is nice, then I don't have a major issue with them. If they're expecting me to be a complete master then they're going to be extremely disappointed.

“Who is it?”

“Just an old friend. We'll be paying him for the lessons so you better make every second count.”

That tells me I've never met this guy before or he would have given me a name. I don't like this already. He could have at least told me or givign some kind of warning before he went and got all this together.

“What's wrong, I thought you wanted a coach?”

My mom looks to upset. Everyone has been supportive since I stepped on the ice, but sometimes I wish they would back off a little and give me space. If I really wanted I coach, then I could have gone out to get one.

“I do... but I'm not ready. I've been trying to learn jumps but I-”

“If you're failing that bad then it sounds like you need a coach.”

“I'm not failing... I just haven't learned yet.”

“Then learn today. Your first lesson is at noon.”

Are you kidding me? It's like they want to kill me. They're giving me less than an hour to process it.

“Couldn't you have given me some heads up?”

He turns back to his paper and shrugs. My sister still has no interest in the conversation, but her eyes watch me as my shoulders drop along with my eyes. Mom gets fed up with her smoking and crushes out her cigarette on the table to leave yet another burn mark. I think this table is going to fall apart with how much it's been charred.

My plate gets filled with eggs and bacon, and I really wish I could eat it. Mostly I just push everything around the plate with my fork and take a few bites. It's good, but it'll go straight to where I don't want. Those few mouth fulls are enough to up the size of my pants. If that starts to happen then I can kiss away my skating aspirations.

I slump in my chair and jab at a mushy chunk of egg with the fork prongs with no intentions of eating it. Mari is digging in and skimming through her phone, probably checking the latest ranks for the professional skaters. She's an even bigger fan than me. Her room is covered in posters and collectibles, but she's never even put on a pair of skates. She's just like my dad in the sense that she wants me to get famous, but only because she wants to stalk hot boys. Typical.

“Yuuri, what's wrong? You haven't taken one bite yet.”

I normally don't, mom. But thanks for noticing.

“I'm just not feeling well.”

After that coach bomb, I'm even less interested in the food.

“I think I'll head to the rink.”

And hope my phone is still there. It's better to get some early skating time in before the crowds show up along with my coach. The ice doesn't get super busy until the afternoon, but there's still going to be more people there than I'm comfortable with. Something tells me my coach won't want to practice after closing hours.

I push away from the table and back into my room, which serves as my own little safe haven; away from noise and people. It's the only place I can go where I'm truly alone. I can't wait until I have a place of my own so I won't have to worry about my parents barging in unwanted.

My clothes are simple. Black navy sweatpants and a black long sleeve. It's always the same thing. I find they're the most comfortable things to skate in out of everything in the closet. Jeans are an absolute no as they leave no room for flexibility, which I lack to begin with. I grab my sports jacket, scarf and skates before heaving out; my parents' eyes watching each step until I close the door.

I get to the rink in record time thanks to my speed walking and the bus being on schedule. It's a rare occasion when that happens. I'm greeted at the front desk by Yuuko with her nose behind a book- a college text book from the looks of it. Working here would be the best place to catch up on school. She's taking full advantage of that.

“Hey, Yuuri.”

“Hey.”

Her voice isn't nearly as chipper today. I must be at fault for that.

“You're here early.”

“Yeah, I... I have a lesson.”

“A skating lesson? Your mean you found a coach?”

Doesn't take too long for her to catch onto anything.

I nod and she cracks a smile for the first time today. I rub the back of my neck for no real reason and stare at the counter to avoid her eyes. If I had a name, I'd ask her if he comes here often or if her dad knows him. I need for information about this guy before I see him so I know what to expect. I'm drawing on a blank canvas here.

“That's great! You'll have to tell me how it goes.”

“I will.”

Why did I come here so early again? I really wish my memory wasn't comparable to a fish.

“Have you seen my phone? I think I left it here last night.”

“I haven't. No one has turned in a phone today, but you can look around it you want.”

I decide to take my leave before I lose my phone completely either from being left on the boards or the ice. At this point I wouldn't care if it was broken, as long as I didn't lose it. It's way easier to explain why a screen is cracked rather than thinking up why I was so dumb as to forget my phone at a rink.

The arena is cool as usual; not an uncomfortable cold, but enough to barely see your breath. There's a few older folks on the ice staking slow laps, and a few families here with young kids chasing each other while holding onto chairs. I used to need a chair to stay up. Everyone has to start somewhere. Even all the professionals and Olympians on TV had to take their first steps. No one starts out being perfect, but it feels like I'm having no progress whatsoever.

My legs bring me around the outside of the boards twice; my palm skimming the top and my eyes on a constant lookout. I sweat I left it here. This is going to drive me insane.

I may not use my phone a lot, but it's something to do when I'm standing alone waiting for the bus, or even in a large crowd when I know eyes are on me. It's also a good way to avoid conversation. My sister calls me antisocial, I just call it being an extreme introvert.

If it's not here, then where did I leave it?

“Are you Yuuri?”

I nearly stumble at the grouchy voice. My glasses fall off my nose and I hurry to pick them up; fidgeting to put them back on my face right. You'd think it was my first time wearing them. I finally get a good look at the guy staring down at me and he doesn't look impressed. There's a permanent scowl on his brow and he looks older than my dad.

“Yes, sir.”

Maybe he's the guy who found my phone. I do have my name and home phone number scribbled on the back for times like this. I stare at him hopeful, but he's giving the most neutral expression while reaching his hand out towards me- with no phone.

“Yakov. Your father wanted me to coach you.”

Crap. Kill me now.

It would be rude of me to turn him down for his appearance, unless he's going to do that to me. Leave it to my dad to have the most unimpressed looking friend to walk the earth. How do they even know each other?

I take his hand reluctantly and shake as firmly as I can to give a good impression, which fails considering the look on his face. My grip was pathetic. A four year old could have done better.

“Nice to meet you, sir.”

I wish I could say that and not feel the burn of regret in my gut. I should be walking the other direction instead of standing here awkwardly as he looks me up and down like an ancient statue. My flaws are painted all over my body so he can see every last one. Only when I'm on the ice will he see how much of a screw up I am.

“I don't want to waste any time here. Get your skates on.”

I nod obediently and find a spot on the bench with the older man looming over me. I can barely remember his name except that it sounded like an intimidating animal. I'll settle with calling him 'Sir' for now until my memory clears up. It's hard to concentrate when he's staring me down. Judging by how old he is, he has way more experience under his belt and will be quite disappointed with my skills.

My coat is left on the bench and I tug on the black gloves I always wear to keep my hands warm; an obvious reason, but it's also for the fact I fall so much while practicing jumps. This place doesn't even need a Zamboni when I'm here.

There's that satisfying grind when my blades hit the ice and my new coach is leaning against the boards next to me. His eyes are narrow while they watch the few other children and adults doing laps and laughing while they chase each other. I remember when I took skating that care free, now it's more like a job than a past time.

I stand in silence waiting for instructions, but he's only leaning there as if expecting me to pull something out of my ass. I've never had a coach before, so what exactly is he supposed to do?

“Well, go on.”

“What?”

“Skate.”

“W-what exactly am I skating?”

The look he gives me makes my insides turn. I'm an idiot and it's written on his face. I guess that wasn't the answer he was looking for.

“Your routine.”

“But... I don't have a routine.”

“Are you serious?”

Yet another thing I should have kept my trap shut about. I'm not nearly good enough to have a planned out free skate. Why would I do that when I can't even land a simple double axle? This coaching thing is already starting out disastrous.

“So you want me to help you make one, is that it?”

My fingers fiddle with my glasses which I haven't taken off yet. They give me something to play with when I'm put in these uncomfortable scenarios, much like my phone. They're going to be so smudged by the time this practice is over. He huffs out a sigh and I keep that as a cue to leave my eyes locked on the ice.

“Fine. What do you know?”

“Um... I can do a few spins...”

“That's it?”

“I'm not very flexible.”

Why don't I just keep my mouth shut?

“No kidding.”

What does he mean by that?

“I've been trying to learn a few jumps but-”

“Forget it.”

My eyes dart up for a minute and he looks just as unimpressed as before, maybe even more so. He's going to be coaching a total joke. If he has any reputation at all I'm going to cripple it. I feel sorry for him in a way. I'll do whatever I can to make his life easier.

“But I've almost got it. I can get most of the take offs right, but the landings-”

“You're not going to land anything when you look like that.”

“L-look like what?”

Is this some kind of joke towards my race? That's pretty low. Besides, there have been plenty of successful Japanese skaters. I may not be the best, but I'm still trying.

“How about you lose a few pounds.”

My body visibly flinches. There's a knife in my chest and I don't know when it got there. Only now am I noticing how much it hurts. My hand presses along my collarbone down my torso, but there's nothing there. So why is it so painful? Dryness swells up in my throat and the I might end up swallowing my tongue.

“I have...”

He snorts like I just made a terrible joke and pulls out his phone, sliding along the screen. I feel sick. I've been on a diet and even went the extra mile to rid myself of everything whenever I could. I thought I was seeing results; progress of some kind.

I'm being ignored in favor of a phone wondering what I'm supposed to say. I've been trying hard to lose the weight, but I gain it back so easily. It's a curse in my family. It's not that I eat too much, it's just my metabolism is the worst thing on this planet. I could eat one potato chip and gain five pounds. Don't ask me how it works, I really have no idea.

“This is a joke. Have your father call me again when you fit the part.”

He gets up from leaning and I can physically feel my heart drop five feet in my chest. Don't go. Instinctively I reach out and tug on his coat and forcing him to stay in place. He could shrug me off and I'd let go, but it's worth a shot.

“Please... I just want to learn.”

“It's useless-”

“I'll do whatever I can.”

He looks at me with a tilt in his neck telling me he's not convinced. He must see everything; show up to several rinks to coach children with dreams in their eyes only to be let down. Some people are cut out for the sport and others aren't. I don't want to be told that I can't get anywhere because of my weight. If that's all it takes to make this work, then I'll get rid of it.

“By this time next week, I promise I'll lose 15 pounds.”

One eyebrow is raised. He's intrigued by my proposal. Not a lot of people can lose more than a pound a day, but I can do it. I'll go down to one meal instead of two. I want to get good at skating. This guy is my coach after all, he's telling me what's best to succeed.

“Fine.”

“So, you'll still coach me?”

“Only once you make good on your promise. Until then, I can't work with you.”

Fair enough.

He leaves without another word, keeping his back towards me and leaving the main building. Yuuko spots me through the glass on the doors and looks mildly concerned and hurt at the same time. I don't want to answer her questions about what happened. I could always lie. I've gotten pretty good at that. I'll skate around for a little bit in the hopes she'll forget. I need the extra exercise anyways.

I have one week.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

I managed to avoid nearly all conversation over the next few days. It wasn't easy ignoring everyone and making sure no one was around before stepping out of my room. I managed to make everyone believe I wasn't feeling well so I didn't have to come out for supper. I skipped nearly every meal and had an apple everyone once in awhile. I even did research to find out which ones were healthy- turns out they're pretty much identical.

I lock myself in my room instead of heading out to the rink. There's no point in going when my coach won't even be helping me. There's only so much I can do, and right now I need to focus on my promise. I want to see the look on his face when I prove him wrong and drop more weight than I'd intended.

Unfortunately, I've only lost 2 pounds in 4 days. Pretty pathetic. I weigh myself constantly looking for results whenever I skip a meal; shedding all of my clothes to make that extra decimal worth it. I stare at the scale expecting it to tip and give me some satisfaction.

I'm standing almost completely naked in the bathroom watching a red needle rock between tick marks through a cheap piece of plastic. I don't like the numbers I'm seeing. Maybe our scale is broken. It hasn't been used in years until these past few days. Might as well keep it stashed in my room.

My body deflates and I angrily kick the piece of crap back under the sink to gather dust- until the next time I use it. My clothes a scattered around the bathroom. I managed to get my socks into the tub which I find pretty impressive. I find my glasses on the back of the toilet- which I also took off to tip the scales for less than a gram.

I fix the frames on my nose and glance over the white porcelain of the bowl. Without thinking I crouch beside it; placing my fingers along the lid and staring into the calm water. I know I shouldn't do this, but it'll only be this once. I've done it a few times before, but I swear this will be one of the last times; at least until I can get my coach to work with me.

My glasses are back off my face and I place them beside me, taking a few shallow breaths to make sure I'm ready. I blame the apples, or anything else I eat for that matter. I got greedy and tore into a pack of crackers last night. I wanted to forget it happened, but I was hungry. It was a mistake. It won't happen again.

The same pain hits me when my body lurches forward. Foul tastes cover my tongue and tears stream down my cheeks without my consent. Some of the contents splash onto my fingers and it's enough to make me gag again. Those fucking crackers.

There isn't much, but that's at least a few pounds gone from my stomach. I take a pause and choke out one last time to make sure everything is gone. I'm only tasting bile now which is the confirmation that I'm empty. It feels good.

I smile like a maniac into the bowl of putrid colours while I catch my breath. I try to stand, getting on shaky feet and holding onto the sink to keep my balance. I can't tell if I'm sweating or if it's just my tears being smudged around my skin, either way it's not a pretty sight when I look in the mirror.

“Yuuri, you in there?”

There's a knock at the bathroom door and Mari calling from the other side. She has the day off today since our parents work double shifts at the beginning of the week. It's not like she really needs the job with how much income the spring provides our family, but she claims she hates being bored.

I flush the toilet quickly and pad down my face with a towel before opening the door. With the wave of fresh air that hits me, the bathroom must smell like a slaughter house.

“Wow, you really aren't feeling well, are you? You look like shit.”

I'm glad she doesn't question why I'm in nothing but boxers. Normally I have a t-shirt on.

“Thanks?”

“That wasn't a compliment.”

I know. I don't get many of those, so I'll take what I can get.

“I heated up some soup if you want it. It's nothing special, just the canned crap.”

“No thanks. I'm not hungry.”

“You've gotta eat something or I'll keep mistaking you for a skeleton.”

I really don't like where this conversation is going. My stomach growls at the mention of food, but I cover it quickly and ignore the look my sister gives. I swear I'm not hungry.

“Whatever. Anyway, mom called and said there's someone looking for you at the hot springs and wants you to head down. It's probably your coach.”

Great. He's the last person I want to see right now; mainly because of my lack of progress in anything. I have three more days to lose some kind of weight so I can start skating again. I don't care what it takes, I'm going to learn.

“Couldn't he just come to the house?”

“Don't ask me. I'm only the messenger.”

She shrugs and walks away pulling out a pack of cigarettes from her housecoat. I can't stand the smell of those things.

My body deflates now that my plans of laying around the house doing nothing have been interrupted. I guess I could use the exercise so I'll walk to the spring instead of catch the bus. It's only a few blocks away. Fresh air will help clear my head.

I get dressed relatively quick and grab my iPod as a poor substitute for my phone. I can pretend it's one so people will leave me alone. Plus, ear buds are a good way to avoid conversation all together. Call me an asshole if you want, but I want to be left alone.

The walk to the springs is warm considering past weather. It doesn't snow very much here, but when it goes you'd swear the sky is falling. Technically it is, but not in the apocalyptic kind of way. It's not the end of the world if some crystallized water lands on your nose. There isn't much left over from the snow fall a few days ago, but just enough to hear the soft crunch under my boots.

There's only a few cars in the parking lot so the springs aren't too busy today. Rush hours are the worst on weekends, but winter in general is pretty hectic since no one likes the cold. Coming here after work would be an ideal way to relax.

My mom is at the counter flipping through bills and tucking them into little piles like the organized freak she is. Everything has to be perfect or it's not good enough; the exact opposite of my dad. She smiles and neglects the money to give me a hug as if I didn't just see her this morning. If she could, she would keep Mari and I in protective bubbles for the rest of our lives.

“Are you feeling better?”

“A little.”

I'll feel way better once I'm on the ice again.

“You said someone wanted to see me?”

Her face lights up and she tugs the sleeve of my coat for me to follow. I don't need to wear my coat anymore now that I'm boiling to death. The steam from the springs is all over the place in here. I follow her around the corner to the open waiting area with the tacky fake palm trees she hasn't thrown out yet. Honestly, they aren't convincing anyone they're in Florida.

“That young man there.”

I don't have the chance to open my mouth before she rushes back to the counter to help an older woman who just walked in. I don't need to ask who she's talking about because there's only one other person here. I've seen him before.

“You.”

I don't know his name, so 'you' seemed appropriate.

“You must be Yuuri.”

So he knows my name, but I don't know his. Now that we're inside I can see him clearly unlike that time his dog ambushed me. Is he some kind of fashion model? He must be in a modeling profession with those kinds of chiseled features. I hate people like him. Well... more like I'm jealous.

“I am. How did you-”

“You dropped this.”

My phone.

I don't know whether I should punch him for taking it, or kiss him for keeping it safe. Either way, I take it from his hand with a relieved smile pulling at my lips. Nothing is broken and everything is intact; even the cheap plastic skate I put as a strap

“Thank you.”

“I should apologize for not returning it sooner.”

“No, that's alright. I'm just glad I didn't lose it.”

At least my heart can calm down. I really didn't want to buy a new one and start a new contract. Plus I have a lot of personal stuff on here, and photos of our old cat I would never be able to get back. I need to make copies before this happens again.

“Thanks again.”

The guy looks like he's going to say something, but closes his mouth before any words come out. I take that as my opportunity to leave before things get uncomfortable. The main entrance is still dull and quiet with my mom back to counting money. She's going to be curious about this new guy she's never met. I'll lie and say he's a friend from college.

I almost reach the doors without her noticing. Almost.

“That was a short meeting. Who is that boy?”

“Just a friend.”

I turn to run out the doors, but I'm not so fortunate.

“Don't go leaving here without saying goodbye.”

Great.

She runs (waddles) over to me for the second time and I see the light haired guy behind her who walked in on our family bonding. All he does is smirk.

“Don't work yourself too hard. Get some rest and feel better.”

“Yeah.”

I'm not wasting another second. I leave the building and get hit by a wave of cold air. It's much easier to breathe when they're not fifty pounds of steam filling your lungs. I step to the side and check my phone for any unread messages and missed calls. Turns out they're all from my mom wondering where I am. I make her worry too much.

“Not feeling well?”

I jolt. Looking up to find the same light haired guy beside me; his bangs falling like silk over his left eye. I need to stop staring, but every inch of him is perfect. How can he be real? Even the blue hue in his eyes looks fake.

“Yeah... it's probably just the weather.”

“I can't very well let you walk home alone then, can I?”

That's bold.

“That's alright. I'll just take the bus.”

“I'll come with you.”

The smile plastered on his face is giving me mixed signals. This is the kind of thing you see on crime shows, or in romance novels. I can't tell how this one is going to end. He could have put a tracking device in my cell for all know, but that's just me being paranoid.

“Are you desperate to know where I live or something?”

He laughs softly and it's enough to make a smile tug on my lips. He's way too innocent to be a criminal; just a happy guy making sure a poor fuck like me doesn't collapse on the road. I bet he has a perfect life. If I looked like that, I could get anything I want- even become a celebrity.

“It's not like that. I'm new to the area, so I thought it wouldn't hurt to walk around.”

I figured that much. He's the farthest thing from Japanese that I've ever seen; minus the pale skin. Not to mention his accent. Russian I'm assuming. It's soft just like his laugh.

“Fine.”

I turn around and stuff my hands into my coat while I pass the bus stop. I'm not sure why I feel like walking home all of a sudden, but I'm not turning around. The sound of footsteps catch up to me and the guy looks so pleased with himself that I let him stick around. He's a persistent insect.

“So... why come to Japan?”

If I were to move or go on a vacation, I'd love to see Europe. I haven't gone anywhere outside of my home town. I'm more comfortable with local people; familiar sights and sounds that leave no surprises. It's my own little bubble.

“I'm here for business reasons. I moved down here with a friend a few days ago.”

“So, you're in a suit and tie kind of job?”

“Nothing like that. Would it surprise you if it was?”

“No. I was just curious.”

My phone vibrates and I find my mother has sent me a text. 'Make sure you let me know when you get home blah blah blah'. The normal things highly protective parents send their kids. I find it funny that my dad never does the same thing. Maybe it's a mom thing. Nothing ever happens around here anyways.

“You like skating?”

He points to the phone strap I bought cheap offline. It's a skate made of thin plastic, but I wanted to make my phone a little more personal. Some people have cases, I have a cheesy figure skate. I'm honestly shocked it hasn't fallen off yet.

“Yeah... it's... something I'm trying to get serious about.”

“You want to compete?”

“I'm far from being that good, but maybe one day.”

It's a dream so out of my reach I'm falling flat on my face. I'm desperately hoping my new coach will change all of that. I want to ask him about diets too. I could ask this guy, since he's as thin as a twig. His arms are toned from what I see, so he must work out a lot to look the way he does.

“Would you mind showing me the rink?”

“Do you skate too?”

I have yet to meet someone who is enthusiastic about it as I am. Besides the odd family, no one goes to the rink anymore. It's a recreational thing around here and not some awe inspiring sport like it should be. I used to see another boy practicing when I would skate laps to clean my head. He stopped showing up once he started getting picked on by a local kid.

“Sometimes.”

I smile and nod at his request, turning my heels to head towards the ice castle. It's a joke calling it a castle when it looks like a rundown factory.

The guy has to jog a little to catch up with me. I could use the exercise so I continue running further ahead weaving through the side streets and passing pedestrians. I glance back every so often to make sure I didn't lose the poor guy. I don't want to be responsible for getting him lost when he just moved here.

My steps slow and I need a moment to catch my breath when I arrive at the double set of stairs. I lean on the railing feeling good about running none stop. I'm bound to lose a few pounds from that. The older boy doesn't look tired at all and I want to slap him for being so fit.

“Give me some warning before you run off like that.”

He's not scolding me, more like joking around. He punches me lightly in the shoulder and I nearly lose my balance now that my legs are made of rubber. I giggle to myself and fix my glasses further onto my nose before they fall off.

“Sorry.”

“So, that's the rink?”

“I know it's not much, but it's better than nothing.”

“You don't need high quality ice to skate.”

“I guess you're right.”

I find my strength momentarily and climb up the stairs to flop down on the bench in front of the entrance. It's as quiet as ever. The older boy waves to whoever is at the front counter and joins me with a relaxed sigh when he finds his seat. I glance him over and stare in silence at his eyes. They're so bright, and a gorgeous shade of blue. I get the boring gene pool so I'm stuck with brown eyes.

When he notices my glances I quickly turn away and pretend to be looking at the couple passing bellow us on the sidewalk. They must be fighting about something since they're both dead silent.

“So, um... what's your name?”

I completely forgot to ask. All this time he's known mine, and I have no idea who he is.

“Viktor.”

He gives me his hand and I accept with the strongest handshake I can manage. I don't have a log of strength these days for some reason. It makes getting up in the morning way more difficult than it has to be. I have too much to do for me to be tired all the time.

“Do you think you might come skating here?”

It would be amazing if he knows a thing or two so I could bum some tips.

“Of course. This place isn't too far away from my apartment.”

“Good to hear I didn't get you too lost.”

He laughs like a child, but it's the kind of laugh that's contagious and genuine. He must be a happy person. I envy him.

“I appreciate you being my tour guide.”

“There's more to Hasetsu than just a rink!”

He laughs again, leaning over the pluck my phone from my hand. I nearly snap at him, but he taps a few keystrokes and hands it back before I can open my mouth.

“In that case, show me around sometime.”

He places the phone back in my palm before he gets up from the bench. His smile is more of a smirk for being so sly. Not a lot of people can take my phone and get away with it. It's my weird electronic baby.

I instantly notice the new number in my contacts followed with a new name. That's awfully bold of him. Just as bold as offering to walk me home after our first meeting. Speaking of which, turns out he can walk himself home from here. I'm sure I can manage on my own. I look up with a smile when he waves back from the bottom of the stairs.

“Do svidaniya milashka!”

 


	5. Chapter 5

My first official text to Viktor was along the lines of 'what the heck did you just say to me?'

He knows full well I can't understand his native tongue. He looked so happy while saying those few words so I'm assuming it's his way of saying goodbye. I was left too stunned to wave back before he left and I walked home in silence staring at my phone.

Did I really let a complete stranger put his number in my contacts? We've met twice and all I know is he's not from here, his name, he likes to stake, and he has a dog that hates my guts enough to tackle me. I suppose that's more than I know about my own parents. Pretty sad when I think about it.

I do my best over the next couple of days to lose the weight I claimed I would. I even went on evening jogs around the block for as long as I could until I nearly passed out. I cut down on my eating and even got my skates sharpened again to prepare for my first official practice. I became addicted to the scale and checked my weight every few hours, getting more and more anxious before meeting with my coach again.

I catch the 8am bus to the rink giving myself some time to practice sucking in my gut next to the windows. The reflections help pinpoint where I need to relax. I was too cocky when I said I would lose 15 pounds. If I stretch the truth, I can tell him I lost 5. I really hope he doesn't notice.

My coach is waiting in the rink leaning on the boards when I rush in and interrupt him from a text he was typing out. I fumble with my glasses nervously when I feel him eyeing me up nit picking me apart ready to call me out on the bluff. I should have tried harder. I hate how quiet he is when I stand before him waiting to be judged. A single noise escapes his throat and he returns to his phone.

“Hurry up and change.”

Birds flutter in my stomach with the smile that spreads on my face. I did it. I can finally skate now with a real coach. I don't waste any time on lacing up my skates and pulling on my thin black gloves over my fingers. They're shaking so hard it takes me a few tries to get them on. I'm excited beyond belief. I step onto the ice and it feels so good.

“Can you teach me how to do a flip?”

“No.”

“What about a loop?”

“No.”

“But I've been prac-”

“We're not doing any jumps.”

That sentence alone is enough to kill my enthusiasm. I've been waiting for so long to be taught how to land jumps consistently. What exactly are we doing here?

“If you want to compete, you need a program. We're starting with that, then we'll work on jumps later.”

“Doesn't a program need jumps?”

“They aren't necessary.”

That doesn't make any sense. If that were true, then non of the professionals would risk doing them. They could avoid so many injuries. He's trying to deter me from pushing the subject even further. I get the feeling he doesn't like me very much.

I'm starting to feel lost. Getting a coach wasn't something I wanted to do mainly because it would take all the fun out of skating. Getting competitive with anything can kill the love if you do it enough. I'm really hoping that's not the case with this guy. He looks so serious all the time so I'm scared if I mess up he'll yell at my failures. There's something about adults scolding me that makes my chest hurt.

I stand still on the ice and he crosses his arms across the thick brown coat he's wearing with a condescending look. I need to remind myself to keep my stomach sucked in so he doesn't catch on to my failed promise.

“Go on, show me what you know.”

I nod, placing my glasses on the boards and gliding out to center ice. It's so quiet in here now that I have the rink to myself for a few hours. Renting the time isn't cheap, but the owner gave me a special price and I thank my connection with him however small. At least I don't have to worry about getting interrupted by wondering eyes.

My breaths are shaky. I hate knowing someone is watching me. There's no one here but my coach, so how bad can it be? Just pretend I'm by myself skating to clear my mind. I always perform better when I can focus on the ice and the movements of my body.

There's no music, but I'm used to that. It's all in my head echoing in my ears with every beat that I time with small spins and twists. I don't know too many moves, but this is what I can do. The soft crackling beneath my skates is a sound I've been missing for far too long. Being out here again feels so right.

I let myself explore each untouched area of ice leaving small wisps of white from my blades. Each one follows me like a child chasing after a ball. They fade from my vision only to return when I cover the ice again with more speed. Most of the time it's to enjoy the cool air against my face that makes me feel like I'm flying.

I test my balance on each leg shifting weight, switching with small jumps to skim the waters. Some day I want to go higher and travel further. My flexibility is getting a little better and I'm hoping that will help. I'm going to learn no matter what. I'm going to fly like I've always wanted.

My coach's expression hasn't changed at all since I started. Is he even paying attention or am I just not impressing him? I don't like the sound of either option. I want him to be proud of the things I've learned on my own, but instead it's a neutral stare I can't read. Of course. I'm nothing but a pathetic scrub when he's coached so many others. I'm a joke.

The only thing that catches his attention is a couple walking in. I thought we had this time rented out alone, but maybe I was wrong about that. It's hard for me to see anything from this distance, and now I'm curious.

I glide back to the boards to find my glasses, stumbling to put them on my face. I didn't see the need to continue skating when the person I'm performing for is looking elsewhere. Instead he's staring daggers at the two boys that came in. One I mistook for a girl from far away. He has a slender build and cropped hair. He doesn't look very old either. The other one is-

“Viktor?”

“Yuuri! I thought that was you!”

Am I missing something?

He looks different than before and I blame it on his clothes. He looks good in black. The way his shirt hugs his frame would drive me nuts. I prefer lose clothing when I skate- unless he isn't here to do that.

“Yuuri, meet your new rink mate, Yurio.”

He smiles at me and pats the blonde on the head earning him a hard glare from the younger boy. The size difference between the two it outstanding.

Rink mate? When did that become a new term? I thought all this time practicing was going to be spent alone. Since when do I need a rink mate? And, what exactly does that mean? He's referring to someone I've never seen before. He doesn't look too impressed to be here. He gives me a cold look and nothing more. Definitely different from Viktor.

“Why do I have to share the ice with this pig?”

Pig?

Viktor playfully shoves the shoves the boy towards the bench so he can change into his skates slung over his shoulder. They must be new. They're in perfect condition with a sleek sewn design on the side. I could only dream of affording skates like that.

“Ignore him. He's a spoiled kid.”

“I heard that!”

Their accents are the same. Maybe this is the guy who moved here with Viktor. So, does that mean this is his job or a pass time? I'm curious, but don't know how to ask. That's the story of my life.

“We'll try to stay out of your way.”

“Good.”

My coach grumbles under his breath clearly wishing both of them would drop dead. This guy doesn't like a lot of people including me. My dad must have been desperate to find me a coach. Not much I can do about it now. He watches the both of them lace up their skates and step onto the ice.

So, is Viktor a coach or a skater? I can't tell right away, but the moment he starts helping the blonde boy stretch I get my answer. I need a coach that will join me on the ice and not watch from the sidelines. I learn better from watching and being shown how to move. I'm starting to get jealous already.

“S-so... was my skating okay?”

I need to pull my coach's attention away from the newcomers. He turns back to me while keeping his arms crossed with a huff. Not exactly the kind of feedback I was hoping for.

“It's lackluster. Your spins are too stiff and you carry your weight like a newborn deer.”

But, I thought it was good. In fact, I thought I was improving.

He sighs and runs a hand across his face to wipe of the look of shame while I stand nervously waiting for a lecture. I peek over at Viktor and Yurio doing simple stretching together with casual conversations. I want that so bad. My parents would kill me if I turned away a family friend they thought was so great.

“We'll need to start from scratch. I want longer practices for improvement and get yourself better skates.”

“New ones? But what's wrong with them?”

“They're disgusting. Just a bunch of rags.”

“I can't afford new ska-”

“Then my job here is done.”

“That's not fair!”

“No one said life was fair. If you don't want to take my advice, then there's no point being your coach.”

“But I don't have the money...”

He snorts and turns to leave, but I grab the arm of his coat softly like a toddler. I can't let him leave. As much as I don't want his help, I need it to get better. I'll do whatever he wants so I can perform.

“Okay... I'll get new ones.”

“Good. On top of that, you need to drop a few more pounds.”

You've got to be kidding me. I've kept my gut hidden so he remained oblivious, yet he's telling me to lose more. I don't know how much longer I can last without a decent meal. My stomach is turning from thinking about it. I'm starting to forget what simple foods taste like.

“More? How much more?”

A finger of his is jabbed towards the two boys on the ice. They're looking at something on a phone with Yurio nodding and focusing hard on the screen. The first thing I notice is their shape. Both of them are so thin, yet toned in all the right places. Long legs, thin arms and waist. I could never look like that if I tried. I hate them and their perfect genes.

“Until you look like the blonde.”

My heart drops to the pit of my stomach deflating instantly and now ten times more worried about everything. He wants me to be a toothpick? There's no way I can do that with the diet I'm on. Why can't all of this be easier? I'm ready to give up on skating, but I have nothing else. I've been driving for this for years.

“H-how am I-”

“I don't care how you do it, just make it happen.”

My confidence has been shattered for the rest of the practice.

I stick to my half of the ice during practice and repeat what moves I know. Yakov demands I redo my skate every five seconds whenever he sees something off. Every part of me is off now thanks to his small comments and now the challenge of doing everything he sees fit. What am I going to say to my parents when I tell them I need new skates? They'll kill me. We aren't rich by any means.

I can't concentrate on spins and wobble a little while shifting my weight. My head is off in the depths of hell instead of focused on impressing my coach. I doubt he will ever be impressed with what I do. I see him roll his eyes whenever my hand touches the ice for balance. The more frustrated I get, then worse I perform. The whole practice is going downhill into a viscous cycle.

Every cell in my being is relieved when I notice another couple entering the rink. Our borrowed time is ticking down and it seems like forever before Yakov calls me over. My feet are killing me, but other than that I feel alright- excluding my heart of course. I'm a disappointment to the skating world. Now I have Yurio constantly in the corner of my eye showing me up. Half the time I think my coach is watching him instead of me. He's so much younger, but has triple the amount of talent. His spins are flawless and I even saw him do a triple loop near the end. Not a clean landing, but still amazing for his age.

I step off the ice along with the other two and they take a seat on another bench. Unlike me, they're both smirking and joking about something in Russian that I can't begin to understand. Probably laughing at how terrible I was. I told Viktor I wanted to get serious with skating, but after what he witnessed today he's going to laugh in my face.

I have to ignore the pain in my heels when I remove my skates. That's the hardest I've pushed myself so far and I'm paying for it with blisters- any athlete's worst enemy. My shoes are even less comfortable rubbing against the irritated skin. I'll suck it up for the walk home.

My coach is watching me like a hawk no mater what I do. It's creeping me out. I turn away from him to tuck my skates into my bag and reach behind to grab my coat, but I might have misplaced it. I'm forced to look back only to see Yakov with my jacket in his hand. Why exactly did he take it? I'll act uninterested for now, even though I hate other people touching my things. I reach for it reluctantly, but he glares down at me like an insect pulling it away. I don't like it.

Shrug it off. He's being stupid.

My bag slips over my shoulder when I stand and fix my glasses trying to reach for the fabric again. I'm denied as I expected.

“How long were you planning on hiding it?”

My coat?

“Hide what?”

“Stop acting dumb.”

“I'm not hiding anything.”

He frowns and drops my coat to tug the bottom of my shirt up to my ribs. The panic and shame hits me before the cold air does. All feeling is lost in my legs and I collapse next to the bench tugging the long sleeve further down my torso. There's a tightening in my chest that hits me like a ton of bricks.

“You thought I was stupid enough not to notice? You've barely lost 5 pounds.”

There's someone laughing behind me. Yurio. He thinks what just happened is hilarious seeing as he's nothing but skin and bone.

“You knew the deal.”

I did. It was my idea for fuck sakes. I can't be mad at him since I lied to his face and all through this practice. I let him believe I did what I promised, so shaming me is the least I deserve. Yurio is just the cherry on top with his foul snickering.

“I'm sorry... I tried... I really did.”

“You're not trying hard enough.”

He's right. I could be doing so much more. I swear I'll change. I need one more chance to show him I'm serious about skating.

“If you pull something like that again, you're on your own.”

“I'm sorry.”

He kicks my coat a little closer where I can reach it before he turns to leave. I feel awful for hiding how badly I failed. I'm still fat. My stomach is still rounded and my thighs are too big. I was stupid for thinking I could keep up an act for longer than a day.

My fingers slip on the fabric on the floor, curling into fists to tug the jacket over my shoulders. My legs are temporarily broken so I can't run out of here like I want. I have so much work to do. I can't look like this anymore.

“Yuuri?”

Great, now Viktor is here. He can go ahead and nitpick my skating. At least him being here is giving me the incentive to get up. He tries to help, but I shove him back hard enough for his scrawny legs to stumble. I don't need his help, or his stupid student laughing at me for being a pig. Everyone needs to leave me alone.

“Are you alright?”

Oh I'm just perfect. Fine and dandy.

My jacket is covered in dirt now and that makes me feel even better. No point brushing it off when I'm this upset. I manage to get it on properly and locate my bag once again. I'm glad my legs have decided to work. I don't know about my lungs since they're so heavy. I feel like I'm going to cry, but I haven't done that in years.

“I'm okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah... I'm... still not feeling well.”

I want out of here.

To make matters worse, Yuuko is here.

I see her enter the front doors with another boy I know and would rather forget; Takeshi. Him and I aren't what anyone would call friends or even acquaintances. He likes me for certain reasons while I hate him for everything. When we were little he would pick on me during school and any other chance he got. I was a chubby kid and he made sure I knew about it. 'Fatso' was his favourite name for me. I don't see him much anymore, but it looks like that's about to change.

“Do you want a ride home?”

“No. I'm fine.”

Stupid Viktor and his persistent asking. Part of me is waiting for his voice to trail along when I leave the bench, but he stays put. I'm glad for that. I do my best to tug the hood of my jacket over my face, but I'm spotted before I can reach the doors.

“Yuuri! You're here early aren't you?”

Yuuko smiles when she peeks under my hood with her arms crossed innocently behind her back. She looks pretty in that sweater, and I always like when she does her hair up in a bun. Now my cheeks are turning red and I can't prevent it. I'm forced to play with my glasses during the uncomfortable small talk. Now I really wish she hated me so I could avoid all of this.

“Yeah. Practice.”

“That's right you have a coach now! How was it?”

“Okay.”

Terrible.

“I'm glad. Promise me you'll skate for me someday.”

“Sure...”

Can I leave now? I want to go home.

“Yuuri, this is my boyfriend, Takeshi.”

Boyfriend? Please tell me I'm dreaming. Now I really am going to cry.

“Yuuri? Yuuri Katsuki?”

“You two know each other?”

She sounds so happy about it. I'm ready to crawl under a rock and ferment. This whole day is going wrong. Why does a sweet person like Yuuko have to be with someone like Takeshi? Why, of all people? I can hope he's changed over the years and has grown up a little, but when I catch his eyes I know he's the same. His smirk is as sinister as ever.

I grit my teeth and move past them as quickly as I can out into the streets. There aren't many people, but I'm hoping I can get lost in the small crowds and make it far away before someone chases after me. My bag is pretty heavy and my feet are swollen with blisters making it hard to move anywhere. Yuuko is calling after me from the doors sounding confused- giving her yet another reason to hate me. At this point, I think that's a good thing. She's happy with someone who made my life hell. I need to stay away from her.

I get far enough away from the rink that I think I'm safe. I duck behind an older store and sink down next to the wall. I need to catch my breath before my lungs explode. My bag slips off my shoulder when my butt hits the ground and I flinch once I pull my shoe off. Despite the socks, the blisters are worse and getting more painful. Thank god the walk home won't take more than ten minutes; that's ten minutes longer than I want.

I poke at the swollen skin like five year old waiting for it to break. I hope I can keep skating even when they're this bad. I might have some thick bandages at home to make things work. I can't skip practice tomorrow when I have so much to do.

When I get back to the house, first things first; I need to get rid of the weight.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Everything is warm. Well, more like boiling. My skin is sticky with sweat while the cool porcelain does its best to change that. Most of my body is in pain, but 'no pain no gain' as the cliche sentence goes.

My stomach hurts so bad from dry heaving nothing and my chest is tight whenever I force myself to gag. There's nothing left inside me, but the fat is still there. It won't go away no matter how many times I taste my own fingers. The smell of bile is getting to my head now that I've been in the bathroom for over two hours. No one is home, so no one will question me. Mari is out with friends until later tonight and my parents are working as they normally do.

I trashed the place trying to find decent bandages to wrap around my feet and ankles. They still hurt, but not as bad as before. It's a real pain to do anything but lay around so I've plopped myself down on the floor beside the toilet resting my cheek against the tub. I brought my phone in for company. I won't be getting up until I gain some strength. Mari left a pot of stew on the stove and I need to remind myself to leave it there. It won't do me any favors.

I'm a pig. It's pretty sad when Yurio called me that and I don't even know him. Everyone can see I'm too big to be a skater, or even too big for a Japanese boy. I don't fit the stereotype. I wish I did so I could have a partially normal life. I want to be thin.

My phone makes one of those default noises and I scramble to pick it up with wet finger. I have to wash them every time I put them down my throat. It's getting progressively more painful when less comes up each time. I need to clear out whatever I can to look perfect. I'll show Yakov. I'll show Yurio and Viktor that I can look as good as them with enough effort. I slide my screen to find a single text from my coach.

_Other business today. Won't be at practice._

He's expected me to go on my own? What the heck are we paying him for?

I could stay home and mope, but I want to skate. It won't be terrible to have the ice to myself without a grouchy old man staring at me. I'll perfect my spins while he's gone so he will be impressed. I might even try a couple low key jumps. Yakov will be thrilled when he gets back and I can't wait to see his face when I skate flawlessly.

Strength comes into my body momentarily to allow myself to get up without smashing my face into the toilet. The mirror is the first place I go and I think I'm starting to see a little difference. My stomach doesn't poke out as much, but it's still not flat. It grumbles loudly at the thought of walking past the kitchen, but I can't afford to mess up and gain everything back.

My bag is on the floor where I left it with my coat. I have a whole day to do whatever I want before worrying about practice later. Knowing my coach won't be there makes it less nerve wracking. I stumble a little when I gather my things and head back to my room to lay back on the bed. The ceiling isn't the most exciting thing to look at. Then again, there's nothing in my room beside a bed and desk. It's bland compared to my sister's room. She doesn't have any wall space left with the amount of posters she buys of famous boys.

I spend hours staring at the ceiling letting my brain wander and eyes fall shut to think about nothing useful. I don't have a lot of strength after puking up a lung. I'm exhausted and feel tired even after sleeping for 8 hours. I think my body is starting to hate me more than my brain does. I'll go to practice, but there's no guarantee I'll do very much; not with Yurio showing me up at everything. Screw him for having a good coach.

Noon rolls around forcing me to pull myself out of bed and head down to the rink. It's empty as usual with the other two guys already on the ice doing stretches. They notice me, but don't respond to the new presence. I feel lost in my home rink. I can't remember where the dressing rooms are momentarily so I leave my bag in the open and tie up my skates while sitting on the floor. How exactly am I supposed to practice alone?

Stepping onto the ice feels good, but I feel eyes on me when I should be enjoying myself. Viktor is watching and probably wondering if my coach drove into a ditch somewhere; not that I'd care either way. Whatever he's doing is more important than helping me. He doesn't have the decency to tell me what he's doing, but it's none of my business. I'll use the ice time when ever I can get it. Though, having the full rink to myself would be nicer.

I glide a few laps and switch legs where I nearly fall. Pretty pathetic when I'm losing my balance with something so simple. That doesn't matter. I'm going to land a jump today whether I like it or not. I'll break every bone in my body if that's what it takes. I'm tired of waiting.

“Yuuri?”

I nearly run into Viktor when I notice him beside me. He's as silent as a cat. I steady myself and he places a hand on my shoulder to make sure I don't fall down. I tug away and stare at him with that deer in the headlights look.

“Where's your coach?”

“I'm not sure...”

He tilts his head with a concerned expression also reminding me of a cat. I don't want him to be worried about my coach's priorities when he should be focused on his own coaching. Yurio has so much potential yet he's over here talking to me. I'm dust under the rug compared to him.

“He's just running late.”

Anything to get him off my back so I can be alone for my practice.

“Do you want to warm up with us?”

My mind is saying yes, but my mouth spews out something different.

“No... that's okay.”

I hate myself for saying that. Of course I want to warm up with them. I want to know what it's like to have a coach that has some interest in what you're doing. Viktor actually gets involved on the ice with Yurio while Yakov watches me from the comfort of the boards. Not to mention he's not even here.

Viktor looks disappointed when I skate away from him to do my own thing. It's nothing against him, I just don't want to feel his eyes on my skin judging my every decision. I know he's watching me regardless the more time I spend alone wondering where my coach is. He's more concerned than I am, but that's because he's clueless. Yurio starts to notice and his voice gets increasingly louder to demand Viktor's attention instead of 'staring into space'.

My eyes are glued to the ice with each half lap to gain a little more speed. I'm through with waiting. One jump. That's all I want. I've been dying to learn this whole time and who knows when that will happen. I won't try anything complicated. Just a double axel and that's it. If I can get more than one rotation in it'll be a miracle.

I do a few more laps trying to ignore Viktor and Yurio a few paces away. Both of them already know how to do all this stuff flawlessly. I want to learn. I've seen Yurio attempt a few quads and even if he doesn't land them properly, it's still more than I could ever dream of doing. I'm nothing but a baby learning to walk.

Getting frustrated isn't the best way to start anything. I'm also getting impatient so my skating is sloppy. My speed isn't terrible when I approach the jump; glancing over my shoulder to find my take off. I mark the spot and leap forward tucking my arms in. I'm overly pleased with myself to count two rotations, but as fate would have it that's as far as I go.

The moment my skates hit the ice again I stumble forward and break my fall with both hands swearing at myself. It started out well. Why can't I land anything? It doesn't make sense. I've tried so many different angles and none of them are working. Physics must be broken.

Someone is laughing and Yurio is leaning against the boards with a bottle almost choking on the water. He coughs a few times only to resume his power laugh. Viktor is beside him with a look of pure pity. Both of them know it sucked.

“What was that?”

I get up and brush off the dusted snow covering my legs and chest. I want to try again, but my confidence is shattered and I didn't have much left to begin with. I want to go back to having the ice to myself. I don't want either of them here. Forget it, I want to go home. I tear off my skates the moment I'm off the ice and practically throw them into my bag. I'm hoping I break them. Then I could get new ones easily without my parents asking for a better reason.

Maybe I should give it up. Pack up the towel and settle for running the hot springs with my parents. It doesn't take much skill to count money which is about the only thing I can do right. My people skills aren't good either, so scratch out the idea of being a cashier. I just want to skate, but what's the point?

“Yuuri? You're leaving already?”

Don't talk me. I don't want you or your tiny blonde student so much as looking in my general direction. Stop pretending like you care about what I'm doing with my life. This nice act is getting on my nerves and making everything more difficult. Go back home to Russia so I can skate how I used to. They're ruining this for me.

I pull my bag over my shoulder and don't look back. What a mistake it was to come here. I should have been taking the time off to set up a routine, but how am I supposed to do that? Is there anything I can accomplish on my own without being babied? I think I'm going to cry. Why can't things work out the way I want? The weight on my chest hurt more than the bruise forming on my leg.

“Yuuri, wait-”

There's a grip on my shoulder causing me to shove it off and nearly slapping Viktor in the face. I wouldn't apologize if I did, though I'd feel pretty bad. He doesn't back off and grips my shoulder again now that I'm looking at him. I quickly wipe away the moisture from my eyes before he can notice.

“What?”

“Stay with us.”

“I already said I didn't want to practice with you.”

He looks over his shoulder at Yurio who's watching both of us with the most annoyed face I've ever seen. He wouldn't want to practice with me anyway. I'm a complete screw up. He would end up laughing at everything I do like I'm a circus freak.

“Then why don't I buy you lunch?”

“Why would you do that?”

He looks around searching for an answer with his mouth open. What a weird guy.

“Since your coach didn't show up, maybe I could help you?”

Really? He would want to help?

“But... what about Yurio?”

“We can reschedule.”

He smiles and I return it, however faint. I fumble nervously with my glasses and the strap of my bag while he looks at me. I never know how to act when someone stares.

“Wait here. I'll go grab my things.”

Now I feel a little bad for interrupting Yurio's practice session, but it serves him right for being a complete tool. It's not like he needs the practice when he's so good already. Plus he looks like he hates it here anyways so maybe I'm doing him a favor. He doesn't look the least bit upset when Viktor explains they're ending early.

I watch quietly while Viktor pulls on his designer jacket once he's changed out of his skates. He's the kind of guy who looks good in anything, but the expensive stuff suits him. Even his bag looks like it costs a couple hundred dollars. Where exactly does he get all this money?

“Ready. Any thoughts on lunch?”

“I thought you had something in mind.”

He snorts and ushers me forward to leave the rink.

“You're forgetting I'm new here. Now's your chance to be my tour guide.”

“Don't tour guides get paid for their work?”

“I'm paying you in food.”

I roll my eyes and let him lead me out of the rink and back to the streets where the day is half over. I don't know many restaurants despite how long I've lived here. I don't go out much and I've never had a reason to until now. Anything to get some extra skating tips will have me on my knees in no time. Since Viktor offered I don't have to feel guilty about it.

“There's a small sushi place down the road... I mean, we don't have to go there-”

“I love sushi! I haven't had it in awhile.”

I'm glad he's so thrilled at my suggestion. Sushi is pretty cliche when you're in Japan and not to mention a lot of people don't like the thought of eating raw fish. It's not so bad once you get used to it.

Our short ten minute walk isn't awkward at all. Viktor is really good at talking your ear off even when you don't respond. Any small observation will send him on a tangent about him life back in Russia. I pay attention to small snippets while looking out for anyone I may know. I wouldn't want to be caught dead in public and have to acknowledge someone I'd rather forget.

The sushi place isn't busy, but it's not empty either. We're seated in a booth which are my favourite and handed the menus while I'm busy staring at the coy in the giant tank. They used to be so much smaller. Their long tails remind me of skirts with how delicate they are in the water. I wish I were a fish. Life would be so easy.

We order our drinks and jot down a few starters placing the paper on the edge of the table for our server. It's a weird system but it works pretty well. I'm hoping Viktor is starving so he can eat my half without shame.

I settle for a water and calmly sip a few drops through the straw to let it cool my tongue. The water here tastes pretty good too. Viktor is busy looking around and taking in all the new sights and paintings on the wall. The way his eyes sparkle is amusing.

“So, Yuuri-”

Looks like he's done with the visuals.

“Y-yeah?”

“Why don't you tell me about yourself.”

“Like what? You already know I like to skate.”

He smiles and twirls the straw in his drink to watch the mini whirlpool. He got something fancy and alcoholic unlike me. I can make out a couple strawberries floating at the top, but I can't remember what the actual drink is called.

“There has to be more than that. What do you do for fun?”

“I skate.”

“That's it?”

“A more important question is why do you want to know?”

He sets his drink aside and reaches for his bag. He finds a pen and notepad in one of the fancy ass pockets and places it down in front of him on the table. I watch completely clueless with no answer to my previous question.

“I said I would help you.”

I perk up and lean in a little closer. Skating tips. I need these so badly. Thank you for not wasting time.

“Please, tell me what I have to do.”

“You need a routine; A program that belongs to you and means something, or maybe something that you're interested in and want to tell the story.”

“But... I don't know how.”

“Tell me about yourself.”

I look around nervously and go back to rubbing my fingertips against the condensation of the cup. What is there to tell? I'm pretty boring. What can I say to impress him so he doesn't give up on me? I need as much help as I can get.

The notebook is slid across the table until it's under my nose and I'm staring at the blank sheets. The pen resting comfortably on top and Viktor watching me and noticing my lack of commentary. My life would be so bland compared to his. I bet he would laugh at how simple I am.

“How about this: I'll give you a little homework and we can meet up here again tomorrow.”

“Homework?”

“The same question I just asked. I want you to write down whatever comes to you. Write down your hobbies, interests, personal experiences, and we can go from there.”

“That's it? How is that going to help?”

He laughs at my skepticism and pushes the paper closer. I shouldn't be questioning him when he's going the extra mile to give me a little nudge. I should be shutting my trap like an obedient student.

“It will help give you a starting point for a routine. Brainstorming is the first step. You can't create anything if you don't have any ideas.”

I know he's right, but all I want is to go out on the ice and skate. He sure as heck can't teach me anything in here, so I need to be patient. I sigh and close to book keeping the pen locked inside while I slip it into my own bag. He's already done more than my actual coach.

The first couple of plates are set before us and Viktor eagerly grabs his chopsticks to dig in. I'm less excited since I won't be eating very much. I'm pretty stupid for accepting his lunch date. I'm so hungry, but I can't eat anything; not when I'm trying so hard to lose weight. I can't stop my stomach from grumbling under my sweater.

I take one piece of tempura- which could possibly be the worst thing for me to eat- and set it on my plate to poke it around. The batter crunches under the pressure loudly and it smells so good. One piece won't kill me, right? I should know better. Anything that's deep fried will go straight to my stomach and thighs. I need to think about my future.

“Aren't you hungry?”

Viktor already has his mouth stuffed with sashimi and it's a pretty funny look. I'm glad he's enjoying himself so much, but I'm also envious how he can scarf down everything on his plate and still have a perfect figure.

“No... I guess I'm not feeling well.”

“You're still sick?”

Crap. I used that excuse last time.

“No... I... ate a lot this morning.”

His perfectly shaped eyebrow raises higher telling me he's not convinced. He can eat my portion if that will get him off my case. I hate being watched so carefully, even more so now that I know what Viktor is waiting for.

One bite. Fish is good for you.

My fingers are shaky with the chopsticks feeling like a newborn trying to hold a pencil. You'd think it would be in my nature to perform this task flawlessly, but my mind is drawing a blank. The raw meat flops around on my plate as if it's still alive until I get a hold of myself and stable my hand. I can do this. It's just for today.

It smells so good and tastes even better when the seasoning hit my tongue. I nearly moan while I take the first bite and savor it like it's going to be my last meal on earth. My stomach growls louder as it's own way of screaming at me to feed it. It's like that annoying pet that won't shut up in the morning until it's fed. Who would have thought fish and seaweed could taste so amazing.

Viktor looks thrilled with my small bite seeing me enjoy it so much. He really has no idea, but I'm okay with that. I only came here for skating tips after all, not a buffet meal. I'll settle with nibbling on my one piece of sushi until Viktor is distracted again, then I'll return to my water.

“So, how long have you been skating?”

His words are muffled with a mouth full of fish making me laugh under my breath.

“Ever since I was little. Maybe seven.”

I take another small bite and abandon the sticks on the table in favor if toying with the light blue straw. I find it cute how I was brought a lemon wedge for something as simple as water. Who wants their water to taste sour anyways? I glance up to find the older guy staring at me and not so much as blinking. Maybe I said something wrong.

“You're serious?”

There's that rock in my throat.

“I-I know I'm still bad... and I'm a little fat, but-”

“Wait, what? Where are you going with this?”

I look back at my water and no longer have any interest in drinking it. Is it possible to gain weight from drinking? What if I fill up like some warped water balloon? I can't risk it right now.

“It's hard for anyone to take me seriously... I probably shouldn't try-”

“Yuuri, hold on. That's not what I meant by that. I am taking you seriously, that's why I want to help. I'm only curious to know why you've taken so long to start competing.”

He should know that answer. Look at me. That's reason enough. Compare me to the blonde boy he's teaching and he should understand why I've held back for so long. I mean, I've always known I'd get laughed at since figure skating isn't a 'manly' sport, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy it. I love skating, it's everyone else that makes me question it.

“I was focusing on school for awhile. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do in life.”

More like I dropped out and weighed my entire future on whether or not I could be a decent athlete. If this doesn't work out, then where do I go? I don't want to be anything else, but there's a chance I'm not cut out for the ice. I could be wasting all my effort only to be a failure and end up working in the family business.

“I love skating more than anything, so school seemed pointless...”

“It takes a lot of work to get into professional skating, and that dream won't happen overnight. I'll be honest with you and say you have a long way to go.”

It's the words I hate hearing, but sometimes the truth hurts. Not only is my figure wrong, but I can barely get my skates off the ice without falling. I'd sell my soul for talent if I could.

“I know... I've been trying to lose weight to make it easier, but nothing seems to be working-”

“Yuuri.”

I glance up from my water and the stare he gives me is odd considering he's always been so happy. The sticks are forgotten on his plate and the food goes untouched for what seems like forever until I wait for him to speak.

“Do you honestly think you're fat?”

I am.

He should know that when he has the frame of a male barbie doll. Everything is sculpted to perfection like some factory shit to appeal to damn near everyone. His legs are so thin and long and mine are fat and stocky like a baby carrot. I wonder if he's ever been fat in his life. Fuck him and his good genes. I'm getting worked up and I haven't even answered his question.

“I'm too fat to be a skater...”

What sounds like a sigh passes through the air and does nothing to ease the tension pulling at my nerves. I don't want to talk about my weight if I can avoid it.

“If you keep practicing, then you'll lose weight on your own. Don't stress too much.”

“I'm trying...”

“Well, you're not even fat so don't worry about it.”

Easy for him to say as he puts more food on his plate. He places one more on mine next to the half eaten chunk of fish and taps it with the end of his chopstick returning with that dumb heart shaped smile.

“That one's good. You should try it.”

“I'm not hungry...”

“I can hear your stomach from here.”

I was really hoping he couldn't. It hasn't shut up since I took those few bites. I cover it with my arms as if that's going to stop the demonic noises; muffle them if I'm lucky. I'm suddenly hating this place.

“I-I'm really not hungry-”

“What about dessert?”

He winks like it's some grand answer for fight I'm giving. There's a dessert menu next to the napkins that he grabs eagerly and shoves in front of my face. Everything looks so good, but I nearly slap it out of his hand to make him look offended.

“You don't even want ice cream? Look at all the flavors-”

“I said I'm not hungry!”

My body freezes when the sentence comes out louder than I'd intended. I get a few looks from the servers and another couple sitting at the far end of the room. All I can do is lower myself in the seat and try to calm down. You'd swear I just punched Viktor in the face, though his expression changes rather quickly once he places the menu back in defeat.

I think I'm going to be sick.

“Sorry...”

This whole lunch date thing was a bad idea from the start. Why go out for food when I'm not going to eat? It's bound to bring up a slew load of questions that I don't want to answer. I know Viktor is only trying to be friendly, but it's screwing with my diet. This scene is making me uncomfortable and more awkward than normal.

“I-I think I'm gonna go-”

“Yuuri, wait.”

I'm halfway out of my seat and ready to bolt for the door. Never mind that I'd be leaving Viktor to pay for everything while killing that upbeat mood of his. Why do I have to ruin everything?

“Why don't we go to my place? We can just relax... and start over.”

“I-I don't know... I-”

“Please?”

I start to tug nervously at my sleeves and keep my eyes on the floor to avoid the stares that are surely coming my way after my little outburst. I wish I could take it back and maybe respond like a normal human being by saying no. Why should we continue seeing each other if I've embarrassed the hell out of him by being a child? He's persistent, and I don't know if that's a good thing or not.

One look at his giant puppy eyes and I'll feel awful for turning him down. He's even tilting his head like one, but it's only so he can see my face better with the hair shading my face. He's awaiting my answer, which I give to him in a small nod and a barely audible 'okay'. I better not regret this, though I've managed to put a smile back on the guy's lips, so that's something.

Money is tossed onto the table before he gets up and offers me his hand. I make sure to grab my bag I nearly forgot and tuck it under my arm like a high schooler. I accept Viktor's hand as he helps me up. He even goes so far as to cover the stares of strangers with his body to make the short walk to the front door less agonizing. I'm hoping this next date won't be such a mistake.

I've been given a second change to have someone in my life, so I better not screw this up.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Viktor insisted we take a cab back to his place after my little episode at the restaurant. He claimed it would save time, but he probably didn't want to deal with how awkward it would be if we walked. I really don't blame him, and he did a good job at keeping conversation going when my responses never surpassed one word. He paid for the ride and lead me through the main doors of the apartment complex. For someone who wears expensive clothes, I'm confused as to why he doesn't live in his own house.

The place is nice enough once I'm inside. I really don't know what to say so I spend my time glancing around and taking in each detail until my brain wants to explode. Everything matches like it's pulled from a home magazine complete with plants and perfectly aligned books. I pull off my shoes so I don't get the place dirty and continue my tour into the living area.

“Do you want a drink?”

“N-no. I'm fine.”

All I had was water anyways, so beverages aren't the first thing on my mind.

I take a seat cautiously as if the sofa is going to collapse under me. I never know how to 'make myself at home' in other people's houses. Whenever they say that it only makes me more uncomfortable. I toy with my fingers until Viktor appears again shrugging off his coat and hanging it neatly on the rack near the door. It looks like something my grandmother would have owned.

A smile is plastered on his face when he joins me and I watch each move like he's going to bite my arm off. I've never been to anyone's place after only knowing them for a few days. This has to be a first, and all because I wanted to get greedy with skating tips.

“I don't think Yurio is here. He must have gone out after practice.”

I nearly forgot they live together. I'm glad he's not here so he can't laugh at me and think of some other creative nickname besides 'pig'. Having it run through my head forces me to curl my arms around my stomach. The way I'm sitting isn't doing me any favors, and leave it to Viktor to notice my odd posture.

“Are you feeling alright?”

No.

“Yeah... I just... I want to apologize for how I acted.”

I finger touches my lips and I look up into his eyes a little confused as he shakes his head. I flinch back a little since no one ever touches me unless it's a slap in the face. I got quite a few of those during public school.

“We're starting over. Pretend it never happened.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

That's going to be a hard thing to forget. The amount of people who gave me dirty looks had to be in the double digits. I don't think I can ever eat there again, not that I did a lot to begin with. It's the first time I've been there in years only because Viktor insisted. Pretty stupid since I didn't eat anything.

Wait.

“If you want, I can help you start the homework I gave.”

What homework? I don't remember anything he said at the restaurant. I don't remember speaking, but I ate. Why the fuck did I eat? Is that why I can't hide the roll in my stomach? The taste is still on my tongue. It was so good, but I'm a complete idiot.

“Yuuri?”

“Y-yes?”

Snap out of it. I'll be fine. It was only a few bites.

“Sorry. Sure, you can help me.”

I shuffle through my bag on my lap trying to ignore the rock in my stomach. It won't go away no matter how hard I try to concentrate on the book in my hands. How many calories did I eat? It was deep fried fish for fuck sakes. Why didn't I just shove a cake down my throat instead? The notebook nearly slips from my fingers with how badly they're shaking. I'm hoping I can lie and say it's a condition I have that isn't related to my brain.

Viktor takes the book while I toss my bag next to the sofa and flips to a new page with the pen in hand. I blink a few times to focus on his smooth writing that I can't begin to understand. I should know these words, but my mind is somewhere else. He's speaking; giving me instructions once he hands the pen back for me to take over. I can't even remember why I have this book in the first place.

I can wait until I get home, right? If we had actually walked back here, maybe I wouldn't feel so awful about this. There's weight around my belly that I don't recall being there before. My jeans are tighter around my thighs when they had been so loose this morning. I knew this was a bad idea. It was only one bite, but look what it did.

“You don't need to write full sentences. Point form is fine when you're brainstorming.”

Right. Skating routines. That's what I'm supposed to be thinking about. I need to focus on creating something special that I can perform. But did I screw that up? I swore I was going to lose weight, but I've gained it all back. I can't be a skater when I look like this. My coach said so. He'll be so mad at me for screwing up.

The ballpoint pen is placed in front of my nose and it takes all my strength to take it between my fingers. I blink away the moisture in my eyes and find it so hard to think clearly. What's the point of making a routine when I'll be too fat to skate it? I need to get rid of it, but I hate to wait. When I get home, then it'll be gone.

But what if it's too late? The damage could be done before I get home. I'm already noticing the changes and it's been less then a half hour since we left the restaurant. I want it gone. I need it gone or there's no point in continuing. I'm starting to sweat as I look around anxiously for the nearest outing, but it would be rude if I left right away.

“Do you want a tour?”

His voice is playful, clearly noticing my flawed attention span. I need to be alone before I start crying. Then Viktor would think I'm crazier than I already am. I don't need to ruin his day even more.

“N-no thank you.”

I drop the pen and get up as if the couch has been lit on fire. I can practically feel my stomach growing with each passing second. Why am I getting so heavy?

“Can I use your washroom?”

“Sure. It's the last door down the hall.”

He points down past the kitchen and I nod a quick thank you while scurrying down the narrow hall. The door doesn't come fast enough, but it's a major relief when I'm inside. I lock it instantly and tear off my glasses before collapsing in front of the bowl. I can't be considering this. I'm in a stranger's house for god sake, what am I thinking?

I'll only do it once. I need to get the heaviness out of my body, then everything will be okay. My head hurts just thinking about it. My legs are shaking to accompany my fingers while I press them across my lips. It will hurt, but I'll feel so much better knowing I can continue working with Viktor on a routine I can actually skate. I have to do this.

The lurch comes suddenly and the taste covers my tongue before it hits me. It's as foul as ever and clouds the water all the same. The fish has to be there somewhere. It's disgusting how I'm looking for it like a game of hide and seek. Tears fill my eyes from nothing but reflex, clouding my vision to make the search all the more difficult. It hurts so bad, but not as much as being called a pig.

How can I ruin my stay here like this? Viktor is tying to help me and here I am throwing up in his perfectly clean bathroom. We're trying to start over and this is what I do? Something has to be wrong with me. He'll learn I'm a mess like everyone else. No one wants to be around a failure.

Soft knocks at the door get me panicking in silence until I realized I locked it. Mind your own business, Viktor. I could be taking a crap for all he knows.

“Yuuri, are you feeling okay?”

No, not at all, but thanks for asking. The heaviness won't leave my stomach. My thighs look ready to burst out of my pants and laugh in my face. Never again. I'm never eating anything ever again.

“Do you want me to drive you home?”

He sounds so sad and defeated. I never knew he could drive, but it really wouldn't shock me if he had the most expensive car on the market. It must be so nice to be perfect and get everything you want. I want that so badly it hurts, but the only pain I'm feeling now is a burning pit in my stomach.

I need to stop ramming my fingers down my throat so I can talk, but I can't stop. It's impossible to stop until I feel better, and I have no idea how long that will take. I'll have to undo hours of progress that the food made while sitting in my system, and I won't see results until it's flushed out. Nothing is coming up, but it's still there. I think I'm choking.

“You can rest if you'd like. We can work on our routine tomorrow.”

He's so close. I want him to help me get rid of this feeling. If he's really that perfect, then he can do something, right?

Sobs are racking my body and I can't see clearly at all. Breathing is getting progressively more difficult the more I continue, though I'll get over it. My back and chest are throbbing in pain and there isn't one inch of my body that isn't sore.

I just want the life I've always dreamed of. I want to be confident. I want to be a perfect skater that everyone loves. I want to be thin. I want my parents to be proud of me and I want it all right now. Everything is being held at an arm's reach from where I'm standing. Whenever I get close enough to reach it, the floor is pulled out from beneath my feet and I land on my face over and over again. I'm exhausted and beaten to the point where I don't think I can stand anymore.

“Yuuri?”

I'm sorry, Viktor. I would reply, but I can't. I need to try harder. I'll keep forcing bile up my throat until there's nothing left. I'll pass out if I have to.

The whole bathroom smells disgusting that it's making me gag even more. The knob on the door begins to rattle, but I'm too occupied with my mission to notice more than that. I should have given some sort of background noise so Viktor wouldn't hear me, but what do I care? I bet he does this too. There's no way he can be that thin without effort.

I can't do it anymore. I can't continue like this and expect some miracle to happen. It's now or never. If I'm going to be a skater, then I need to see results right now.

My fingers are turning red and my throat is burning to the point of feeling like someone lit it on fire. There's snakes in my stomach reminding me I'll never feel right unless I do this. Just a little more and then I'll put this behind me. I'd like to think that's a promise to myself, but I break those every single day.

I'm gagging harder from a mixture of dry heaving and not getting enough air. My throat feels so small and I think someone shoved a cotton swab into my windpipe. Coughing isn't any easier. My fingers tighten around the bowl while the other hand claws desperately at my neck. I can't breathe. I can't fucking breathe.

Something connects with the door and I'm pulled away from the toilet with ease thanks to my weak grip. I'm trying so hard to get air flowing through my lungs with failed attempts each time. I'm leaned back and something else is in my mouth. It feels so strange when I've only felt my own hands in that area. My head is leaned back against something warm and soft, but it's hard to enjoy when I'm too busy wondering if I'm going to die or not.

My head tilts my up and I gasp desperately for air until more tears roll down my face. I must look disgusting. Spit and vomit is covering my chin and fingers and now I'm adding even more fluids by crying and sobbing hysterically. The passage through my throat is opening slightly thanks to the unknown object in my mouth. It takes me a moment to calm down enough and put everything together. It's something I wish I could bury away, but it's reality and it's happening right now. I'm pressed against Viktor's chest sitting together like we're going down a fucking preschooler slide. My sobs don't die, but at least I know what's going on- though it would be nicer if i didn't.

This is a side I don't want anyone to see. A pained, sick animalistic part of me that was supposed to remain hidden. Why is Viktor here? I was going to finish soon, so all he had to do was wait.

Viktor is saying something. His voice is soft next to my ear but I can't make out what it is. It calms down my shaking a little, but it doesn't stop the pain in my chest and brain. My vision is blurry enough without my glasses and now the nonstop tears are making it so much worse. I'm doing this because I have to, because I want to look the part. Viktor won't like me if I'm fat- no one will. I'm doing this for him and for everyone else along with my skating career.

My heart is beating frantically in my chest threatening to explode unless I calm down. There isn't much I can do knowing I had the closest near death experience of my life. Dying in a bathroom covered in puke would be the worst way to go. Now the shame is hitting me harder than anything. What will Viktor think of me? If he was ever considering friendship, I think I sent him running the other direction.

The shaking comes back ten times harder and I'm so scared. I don't want him to hate me. This was supposed to be something I do alone. I thought I had a chance at making a friend, but I'm a complete idiot. I deserve to be like this. I deserve to be fat. I deserve to die alone and I need to bury myself under a rock away from civilization. The world would be a lot happier if it didn't have to deal with me.

“I-I'm s-sorry, Viktor...”

“Yuuri...”

He's at a loss of words. What exactly do you say when you find someone gagging themselves to death? At least I'm trying. He'll understand, right? He can see how fat I am and that I need to do this. I'm glad I cant see him with my back pressed against his warm shirt. If I get puke all over him he'll hate me even more.

I regain my breath and hold back my sobs the best I can. My fingers are sweaty and slippery, doing their best to push Viktor away. Turns out his own hand was prying my mouth open to help me breathe during my episode. I both love and hate him for doing that. My strength is nearly gone, but I'm still trying to get loose and crawl back to the toilet. My insides aren't empty enough.

“L-let go-”

“No.”

So much for that. He's more stubborn than me.

“I'm okay.”

“No. You're not.”

I'm breathing normally again, so that's good enough for me. I'll leave if that's what he wants. If he kicks me out, then I won't be mad. I screwed up so bad and now I need to pay for it. I'm only hoping our encounters at the rink won't be awkward, but so much for the skating tips and routine help.

“I promise I'm fin-”

“You need help.”

No I don't. I'm helping myself by doing this. I won't have a future or any goals if I keep living the way I was. Being a laughing stock isn't my aspiration in life. He should know. Yurio laughed in my face and called me a pig. Is that really how I need to live? Viktor is holding me tighter and I can feel his breathe beside my ear. I bet I smell horrible.

“Please, Yuuri. Don't do this.”

“I said I'm fine, now let go.”

His arms pull tighter around my waist and it's feeling too much like a hug. When was the last time I received one of those? Maybe from my mother. They're pretty rare since no one seems to give a crap about me to show me affection. It's sending a mixture of emotions bubbling inside my chest. Does Viktor care? Why is he holding me so close?

I'm starting to cry again, not caring what I look like or how many streams are drying on my cheeks. Every inch of my body is sore and tired. I'm tired of trying, and maybe even tired of living. I'm screaming for help and no one is paying attention. Is that why I purged here? I can't be that desperate, right? I have a loving family and don't need someone like Viktor to help, but here he is.

Please help me. Please make everything okay. I'm begging you.

He holds me tight and his breathe is like a feather on the back of my neck. I want to cover my face to hide the embarrassment and shame, but my hands are filthy from being lodged down my throat. They have a permanent scent of bile that I can't remove no matter how many times I wash or how hard I scrub. I'm a complete mess both inside and out.

“It's okay.”

No. Nothing is okay.

I'm choking on broken sobs that are ruining all attempts at calming down. How is he capable of doing this to me? His voice is so soft that it's tearing my heart in two like a knife. I need more. I need to know everything will be okay even if it's a complete lie. Tell me my life will get back on track and I will look perfect if I keep trying. Please tell me I can fly and maybe I'll find that bridge.

I'm exhausted and can barely keep my eyes open. They're red and swollen forcing a headache to bloom in the back of my skull. I feel disgusting and dirty on so many levels. I would leave if I could, but I don't have enough strength to stand, and I'd rather not take public transit so everyone can laugh at my failure of a life. Strangers know with one glance.

“Yuuri, you don't need to do this.”

“I-I have to.”

“No you don't. You're beautiful.”

Stop confusing me with those words. That's the kind of shit my mom says. Your parents are supposed to accept you no matter what, so that means nothing. A simple word isn't enough to change my mind and the twisting sensation in my gut.

“Just talk to me... please.”

Why would I talk to him? He's a stranger; one of the people who will laugh in my face if I tell him how long I've been doing this. He'll look down on my like the scum of the earth. My life will do nothing but make him feel better about his own. That's the only real reason anyone listens so sob stories. A nap sounds really nice right about now, but Viktor won't let me slip away so easily.

“I-I'm so tired, Viktor.”

That sentence has more weight to it than I would have liked. I'm more than tired and not physically either. My insides hurt and my back is starting to ache from being hunched over on the floor. I've lost my glasses in the fog of my tears; feeling around the ground desperately trying to find them. I weakly scramble out from his lap and he follows me every inch; taking my wrist with the fear I'll do something stupid. I locate my glasses and carelessly smear the lenses with bile covered fingers cursing softly to myself.

“C'mon. I'll find you a place to rest.”

He helps me up as support allowing me to wash my hands and flush my face out with cold water. It helps my clammy skin makes me feel a lot better. There's a few smudges left on my glasses, but I'll get over it and clean them better once I get home. I'm too busy thinking about a soft pillow against my head to be concerned about it.

I'm not quite as comfortable knowing Viktor has seen me at my absolute worst. He guides me out of the bathroom and holds me just the same when I settle on his bed. I'm intruding his personal space, but this was his idea not mine. His room is plane and clean, so it could be a spare, but I can't see this apartment having more than to bedrooms.

There's a full box of tissues beside the bed which I utilize instantly to dry my eyes and blow my nose a couple times. Viktor sits beside me and wipes a single tear from my cheek that I missed. I keep my eyes down to avoid his searching gaze looking for any answers I can give through body language. All I want to do is repeat how sorry I am that he had to witness me purging in his bathroom. It's something I hope he'll forget, but it seems unlikely.

“Viktor, I-”

He rests a finger on my lips and shushes me before I have the chance to speak. There's an old quilt and the end of the bed he finds and pulls around my body like a cocoon. All I can go is watch him curiously.

“Don't say a word. Get some rest.”

I thought he was the one who wanted me to talk? I'm not complaining now that there's more important things to worry about. He'll be pushing me for answers later and I'm scared of what he'll say. I'm scared of what I may accidentally tell him that he'll relay to my coach.

I lower myself and snuggle close to the freshly washed pillows. It's pretty easy to tell with the scent of fabric softener infiltrating my nose. They're so soft like a giant marshmallow. I look up only to have Viktor slip my glasses from my nose to set them on the side table. I blush and hide my face behind some of the quilt. Normally after purging I would cry until the pain stopped, but this is totally different. I'm not even at my own house. He gets up and I instinctively reach out to grab his wrist before he's too far. I really have no idea why.

“S-sorry... I-”

I what? I just decided to grab him? I might be starting to freak him out. I release Viktor's arm immediately and shrink back into the blanket. What exactly was I trying to do just then?

“Do you want me to stay?”

“Y-yes.”

Don't go. I don't want to be alone.

I'm a baby for wanting him to stay here, right? Anyone my age doesn't need someone to watch over them while they sleep, but it's something that will make me feel better.

“You don't have to... I'm sorry-”

“I won't move an inch, now go to sleep.”

There's a firm strength of a hand placed on my head; ruffling my dark strands almost playfully. I bet my hair is a mess. Mari used to do that when we were younger. She got bored easily and she found amusement in clipping my hair in weird styles. It's enough to bring a smile to my lips if only for a moment. I should be apologizing for everything, but I find something different.

“Thank you.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

I lost track of time and have no idea how long I've been asleep. I don't remember falling asleep or where I am. Maybe it's morning? It's a stupid thought considering how dark it is. The sheets covering my body don't belong to me and the bed is a lot softer than what I'm used to. I move to get up but there's something beside me, well it's actually someone. It's too warm to be curled up next to anyone, so I push away and kick some of the covers from my legs.

What ungodly time is it? My mom will be worried sick if I don't show up before a certain time. I haven't sent her one text today to let her know where I am. I hope she doesn't start panicking and call the cops for a search party. Where is my phone anyway? It's in my bag that I threw somewhere that requires me to move and that's not happening for another few minutes.

The first thing I notice is the light that nearly blinds me when the lamps flicks on to show me the room I've been passed out in for the past several... minutes? Either way, I now remember where I am and it looks different than when I came in. There's a warm glow to the walls and it makes my skin look less pasty. Viktor rolls over to face me with a palm on his chin to keep it supported. Was he sleeping too? I hope I didn't wake him up by moving. He has this look in his eyes that I can't read. I've never been good at doing that.

“Feeling better?”

Dammit. I nearly forgot what he'd witnessed before this. My hand tugs at the front of my shirt where my abdomen is still throbbing. It's not painful, just a little sore from forcing it to work so hard. The taste is still lingering in my mouth and I'll be glad to brush it away when I get home.

“A little.”

If only sleeping fixed all life problems.

I find myself moving off the bed to locate my glasses and the rest of my belongings which have been tossed around this place. My bag should be near the couch. I can grab that and get out of here before anyone knows what happened. If Yurio comes back to find Viktor and I in the same bed I can't begin to imagine what he'd say. I'm stopped by a hand on my shoulder clinging to me and urging me to sit back on the bed.

“Yuuri... can we talk?”

No. That's that last thing I want.

My answer is simply shrugging him off and continuing my mission of collecting my things. I'm followed like a puppy with Viktor scrambling out of the covers to push me further. I reach for my glasses only to have a hand around my wrist earning a hard flinch and a pathetic attempt of me trying to get away.

“Yuuri, please.”

“I-I have to go home.”

That's partially true. The other half is me screaming internally at myself for being so dumb as to accept this guy's hospitality. I barely know him. He told me to stay and I shared a bed with him. I let my guard down and now I feel like a complete idiot.

“I'm not going to pretend like nothing happened. You need help.”

I ignore him the best I can and tug his wrist off so I can slip my glasses back onto my nose. What does he mean by help? I'm not going to some mental institution because I want to lose weight. Once I become a skater, then I'll stop worrying about it so much.

“You know this isn't right. There are other ways to lose weight.”

“I'll be fine.”

At least that's what I tell myself. I'm still not so sure if it's true or not. I'm always tired no matter how much sleep I get. Not to mention water isn't the most filling substance in the world to help that. I'm always hungry, but I can't eat; I learned the consequence in full force today.

“You're not fine. You want to be thin, I get that, but you're fine the way you are.”

Well isn't that something pulled straight off the internet. It would be in the category of how to make someone feel better. It's not working and it will never work. My mother says that to me all the time and I won't believe her until I can look at myself in the mirror without cringing. I shouldn't be able to pinch the fat between my fingers, but here I am.

“Stop lying to me.”

He looks offended when I rip my wrist away from him and fix my shirt with a quick tug. This room isn't so inviting anymore.

“I'm not lying. I'm worried about you.”

Why would a stranger give a damn about my well being? He'll say a few choice words then go off and brag on social media about what a good person he is. I'm his way of looking like a hero or something twisted like that. No one has ever given me a second glance, so why should he be any different? He has some hidden agenda he has to fill.

“You can stop worrying. It's not like I do that all the time. “

Get off my back already.

“You're being a hypocrite. Look at yourself. You can't seriously think you're fat.”

It's not his body. It's not his decision and it's not his life. I hate him for being thin. That hate is mainly jealously, but there's still some hate non the less. It's so effortless for people like him to walk around feeling confident when they're a personified manikin.

“Stop nagging me.”

I reach for the door, but it's slammed in my face forcing me to jump back so I don't get hit by the giant plank of wood. My challenging glare is slowing turning into a cowardly look that you would get from a scared puppy. This whole thing was supposed to be a secret and now Viktor won't leave it alone. It's my own stupid vault for being so naive to think he wouldn't find out if I hid away in his apartment.

“Yuuri, I'm being serious. Don't tell me you never purge when I know that's not true.”

“What the hell do you know about purging?”

He has this narrow look forming in his eyes and I just dug my own grave with that question. I don't want a challenge or an argument. All I want is to go home and sleep away any memories I have of being here. Maybe I'll forget and never see Viktor again after this.

“I know it hurts. I know it's an act of desperation. You think it's the only way you'll see a difference and that suffering will be worth it if you get results.”

“That's not true... I-I'm not suffering.”

It's working. Everything I'm doing is working. Sure, I don't see anything right away, but I will... I swear I'll look better in a few days. I can go a little longer without food; just until I can skate. Only until the day I'm not called a pig anymore. Dammit my head is starting to hurt again.

“There are safer ways to lose weight. There are several different diets you could try.”

There's a single tear that slips from my eye, but I wipe it away as quick as possible. I can't be a wimp and stat sobbing even though everything hurts both physically and mentally. I cried enough when Viktor pulled me away from the toilet before I gagged myself to death, so he doesn't want to put up with any more. I hate that he's trying to read me like he can sympathize with what's going on. Was he ever called fat in his life? I highly doubt it.

“Y-you don't know anything... don't stand there and tell me you understand what's going on-”

“Then explain it to me. Let me understand so I can help.”

“Help with what? Are you somehow going to make me thin? Are you going to magically fix my body?”

I'm starting to get out of hand. My emotions are too wrapped up in this pointless conversation. I've never been confronted about it. No one knew and that's how it was supposed to be. I can deal with this on my own and make everyone happy by being successful and possibly attractive. No one will like me if I'm fat. No one will take me seriously and continue to laugh in my face.

He takes one of my hands that I've balled into a fist without noticing. It's shaking with a mixture of anger and frustration. Not being able to change the way I want and keeping everything bottled in is taking its toll on my brain. I've never had to come up with lies, so I'm past that and now I'm wanting to cling to the only person who knows the truth.

“You know the answer to that.”

“Then how? How are you supposed to help me?”

I know better than to assume Viktor is some God that can fix all my problems in the blink of an eye. There's no one out there as perfect as that, but I was secretly hoping he had some end all answer like a million dollar surgery he was going to pay for.

“Talk to me.”

“How does that-”

“Stop trying to shoulder everything on your own. You have my number, so use it.”

Does he really want to deal with my complaining? I'll just annoy him with constant texts about how unhappy I am or how I don't want to move and just lay in bed for the rest of my life. Why would he want to know when I feel like purging? He isn't making any sense, but I'm on the edge and about to jump. I just want someone to listen and act like they care and for some reason, Viktor is giving me that.

“I'll look into a few different diets and make sure you follow them. I'm not going to be there all the time, so I'll trust you can handle some of it on your own.”

“I can't...”

He's disappointed with that comment. His thin brows move closer together in a frown when I tug my hand away to tuck against my chest. He thinks I'm giving up before starting. If he really wants to know everything, then that's what I'll do. If I'm a lost cause then might as well step over that edge.

“No matter what I eat I always gain weight... I've tried dieting, but it doesn't work.”

A light touch against my cheeks scares the crap out of me. Viktor's palm is brushing over my skin and I swear I swallowed my tongue by accident. His hand is so soft. I've never felt anything like this before. I've never been touched so lightly in my entire life. I can't say as though I hate it.

“I'll find something that will work for you. Change isn't going to happen overnight so you need to be patient.”

“What if you can't find anything? What if there's nothing that will-”

“Trust me.”

That's it? That's not much to go on. Putting trust in him isn't gong to make some magical diet come out of nowhere. Right now I really don't care about any of that. I'm embarrassed that a stranger has seen me at a low point in my life and will have it hanging over my head as blackmail.

“You don't have to do anything for me... I know you're busy with coaching.”

I'm no one to him. He should concentrate on the perfect skater he has under his wing, not the pathetic Japanese boy who has no future in skating. That's hitting me like a truck enough so to make me want to cry, but I can't do that again in front of Viktor. I'm realizing I'll never be as good as Yurio. I'll never be as thin. I'll never be as attractive. What's the point?

“Just because I'm helping Yurio doesn't mean I can't help you too.”

“Viktor... can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

My hands are fumbling on nothing as well as my tongue. It's hard to form words when you're put on the spot with all attention drawn to your every move. We're alone yet its as if I'm on a stage in front of millions for them to judge. My eyes are shifting all over the place trying to find a good spot to rest. The floor seems like a good option.

“Am I a bad skater?”

I want his honest opinion. I've seen the way he skates and the way he teaches like a professional. He has to see my potential- or lack there of. I need him to tell me if it's worth continuing or if I'm wasting my time. It will burn like the depths of hell to hear the truth, but I need him to say it.

“Why are you-”

“You've seen me at practice... I can barely pull off a jump...”

That's a lie. I haven't landed a successful jump since I started practice. My last attempt ended with Yurio laughing in my face and my coach taunting me for my lack of coordination. Viktor must have had his own thoughts, but never vocalized them. I want to know. It was hard for me to read his expression when it was a mixture of pity and concern. Was there anything good with my performances?

He doesn't speak. His lips are open forming blank words to draw out the silence overtaking the room. It was a stupid question since I know the answer, but it hurts so much more when he doesn't say a thing. There's a build up of anger in my gut and I find the courage to reach again for the door only to have to shut again startling me into yelping.

“Yuuri, there's nothing wrong with making mistakes. That's why you have a coach.”

“So... I am bad.”

There it is.

“You just need practice.”

How much more? I've been skating for years and I suck. If practice makes perfect then why am I still struggling? It would make sense if I picked up the sport last month, but where does the line get drawn? I'm far from an amateur, or even a beginner. I'm worse than that. I'm a toddler learning to skate for the first time.

I manage to push Viktor's hand aside to open the door and slip out into the area I should find familiar. My brain is a jumbled up mess while weaving through the furniture to find my bag. It's a miracle I remember that through the heavy throbbing in my chest. Viktor follows like a dog a few paces behind my every step. He gave me his help and now I don't need him anymore.

“I didn't mean that as a bad thing. If you keep practicing you're bound to improve.”

Lies. It's all a giant lie. How many years is it going to take? I can't wait that long when I'm disappointing my parents by being a college drop out. I love skating so much, but I need to let it go. There's nothing a coach can do that I haven't already tried.

“I know... thanks for letting me rest here.”

Now please forget about what you saw and move on. Yurio needs his attention, not me. I'll find something else to do that doesn't take any talent or looks. My bag makes my shoulder ache from the weight thanks to my skates. My mom spent so much to get them after my coach requested it. It's going to hurt when I tell her I'm giving up.

“No need to thank me, just take care of yourself, Yuuri.”

I don't look at him and I don't give any sort of committal answer. My heart is sinking lower in my chest along with a twenty pound weight stealing my voice. Wait a little longer and I can ball like an idiot with the realization my life is over. Competing is better left to the professionals and slender athletes. It was such a mistake so drop out of college.

Viktor follows me to the door awaiting something; acknowledgment maybe. I'm tugging the hood of my jacket across my eyes before he gets nosy and starts peering at my face. I'm on the verge of tears and I'd like to blame him for it. All he did was tell me the truth and no one said it would be easy to handle.

“Get some rest. I'll see you at practice tomorrow.”

The nod I give is nothing less than fake as I walk into the hallway filled with dim light outside each door. I won't be there. I'm never going back. The ice has been ripped out from under my feet by a younger and more talented boy. I'm sorry, Viktor, but this is the last time I'll see you.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

As planned, I didn't budge an inch in the morning. I never bothered sending a single text to either Viktor or my coach. All I did was lay and sulk under the covers until I gathered the strength to open my bedroom window. The sun burns my eyes and I'm back in bed flipping through old messages on my phone for no good reason. My whole body is weak and sluggish, but I manage to have a shower and do my usual morning routine to resemble a normal person.

Mari passes by with a few questions about practice, the main one being 'why aren't you at the rink?'. I don't have the heart to tell her why, so it's my usual excuse of not feeling well. She might have heard me purging since she was convinced I was actually sick. I shouldn't care so much about my body now that I've given up on skating, but I can't get anything down without feeling off about it. My breakfast was a glass of water and nothing more. Mari left me a bowl of soup on the stove and left for the hot springs to help out our parents. I have no interest in going.

I curl myself onto the couch pulling my knees up to my chin to watch TV. My stomach is getting louder with every second causing me to crank the volume more than I should. I'm uninterested with the crappy kid shows that take over every channel in the morning besides the news. The world is rotting away, so I'm going to remain oblivious to everything.

I toy with my hair and push it aside away from my eyes. I've been thinking of getting it cut so I won't have to listen to my dad teasing me about how I'm starting to look like a girl. Who ever said it was against the law for boys to have long hair? A frustrated huff comes from my throat as I bury my face into the tacky cushion beside me.

My brain is refusing the shut off. What am I supposed to tell everyone? I was so sure becoming a skater was what I wanted to do. My dad wasn't keen on the idea, but my mom and sister supported me as much as they could. I don't want to go back to school. I was never interested in any post secondary education. I want to do something I love, but what's the point when you're not good enough to make it? I don't enjoy any other sports. I want to skate.

A quick knocking at the door scares the air right out of my lungs giving me a miniature heart attack. I'm prepared for it to be my coach having him yell at me for not showing up. I set the TV on mute and shuffle to the door trying to peak through the window without being seen. I hate having to awkwardly greet people who show up out of the blue. If they're selling anything I'm going to slam the door in their face. I have no patience for that today.

The door makes a soft creak as I peer through the crack as my crummy way of hiding. For a minute I'm drawing a blank, but the face is so familiar and one I never expected to show up at my doorstep. I come out of hiding and open the door further to make sure I'm seeing him right.

“Viktor? Why are you here?”

“You weren't at practice.”

You don't have to tell me I wasn't there. I look down feeling a little ashamed to have him confront me like this. He could have texted me the same sentence, yet he showed up and is now scolding it to my face.

“I'm not feeling well.”

His stone cold expression tells me he won't be as easily fooled as the rest of my family. I really need a better excuse now that Viktor has heard it at least three times. The dead silence eats away at my insides the longer he stares at me for a real answer. My face is starting to heat up flushing my skin ready to break out into a cold sweat.

“I-I have to go.”

Viktor's hand pushes against the door the moment I make a move to close it. He's strong and forces it open further without budging an inch. He's standing at the threshold while I squirm uncomfortably in front of him playing with my fingers. It's not threatening, just sudden.

“Yuuri... is this about what I said?”

If that were the case this meeting would be less awkward. His words did hurt a little, but it's ultimately my decision of whether or not I continue skating. I made my choice and I'm not taking it back. I'm done. I can't handle any more.

“I'm sorry if you took it the wrong way. If you keep practicing you'll improve, trust me.”

He's wrong. Years of practicing are under my belt and look how pathetic I am. I'll have to look at getting back into college or helping my parents at the spring to feel as if I'm worth something. I've seen what I'm up against, and I'll never be at the same rank.

“You didn't need to come here.”

“I know that, but I promised I would find you a diet.”

“Did you?”

“Can I come in?”

I want to slam the door in his face, but something inside me keeps that from happening. I want to hear if he's found anything I have yet to discover to help. I've searched around the area and tried dozens of tips online, yet here I am weighing the same, if not more. I step aside to let Viktor walk through the door dropping his bag softly next to the row of shoes.

The house is in a disordered state, but not too bad as to give Viktor a bias of my family. We're not slobs, just busy. His eyes scan every inch of the living room as he follows me silently to the couch. The TV is the first to go so I can give my full attention to whatever Viktor has brought to help. Even if I'm not skating, I can still lose weight for my own sake. He came here empty handed so he must have some good information packed into his brain. I sit down eagerly and he joins me moments later with a completely neutral and borderline unfriendly look.

“What did you find?”

“I... didn't look into any diets.”

My brows crease together in confusion wonder why exactly he wanted to come in in the first place and lie to my face. What's the point of being here? He must be really bored.

“Why not?”

“Yuuri, I need you to be honest with me...”

Oh no. I don't like where this is going.

“When did you start starving yourself?”

No.

“Get out.”

This asshole. He thinks he can trick me into inviting him in so he can preach to my face. He's lucky no one else is home or I'd have to scream my lungs out. My comfortable position on the couch is ruined the moment I storm to my feet and head for my room. I'll call the cops if he doesn't get out of here withing the next ten minutes. Noise follows me with every step knowing Viktor is trailing me like a dog. I try to slam my bedroom door in his face only to have him block it has he did before a few minutes ago.

“I said get out!”

It's so odd hearing my voice get so loud. I never yell. I hate fighting accompanied by the feeling of my heart pounding against my chest. I'm getting light headed so this better end very soon.

“I'm trying to help you.”

“I don't need your help!”

Do I? I don't know. I hate the emotional bubble in my throat with every word I speak. I locate my phone abandoned on the night table, but it's pulled away the second I reach for it. Viktor is really starting to piss me off.

“I want you to talk to me.”

“I am, and I'm telling you to go away!”

Why is he doing this? He won't leave me alone even as I shove him hard against the chest until he stumbles. My arms are so weak that he doesn't go far and stands above me again in a scolding manner. I don't need him. I don't want him here. I don't want to hear his voice... I don't want him to go. Scream at me. Do whatever you can and get me to break. I want to tell you, but I'm so upset. It hurts so bad. I need help.

He simply stares at me as if I've pulled a gun on him, and perhaps that shove I gave was comparable. I've never raised a hand to anyone. It's strange even for me. Why am I pushing away the only person who's willing to know the truth? Emotions scare me that's why. I've barely scratched the surface when it comes to my eating habits and my whole relationship with food. What will Viktor think when I tell him?

I tuck my arm close to my chest suddenly regretting shoving Viktor so hard. I don't want to hurt anyone because of my stupid life choices. He's not the one I should be mad at for showing some kind of concern. I'm so confused. Why has he noticed when my own parents continue to be oblivious to my suffering? Do they not find it strange how I feel sick all the time?

“I-I'm sorry.”

Forget I ever touched you. I can't look at him and instead focus on his legs; those perfectly slender and muscular legs hiding beneath his jeans. I want something similar. This is too hard. No one important is around to watch my mental breakdown so I'm free to cry until my brain starts to ache. The first few tears are the most painful, but after that it comes so easily.

“Yuuri...”

His voice. It's so soft and concerned which touches my heart in an aching way. I can't move from my stiff spot in the middle of my room allowing Viktor to take a few more steps to his original position. My glasses are slipped off my nose and I let them leave without a struggle. It makes the job easier when it comes to wiping my eyes with my sleeve.

“I'm so sorry I upset you. I didn't mean to come on so strong, but after what happened I'm worried about you.”

“I'm fine.”

No you're not so stop lying. Why am I avoiding the truth so badly when he knows something is off? I need someone to shove me in the right direction before I start hurting even more. Viktor, please do something.

“I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me those words.”

Impossible. There's no meaning to either of them when every day of my life is some form of struggle dealing with my emotional and physical state. I'm breaking down slowly waiting for the final straw, and I think Viktor just unearthed it for me. I shake my head before him completely undoing any sort of credibility my last sentence held. I'm not okay. This isn't a normal eating habit other people have. No one else is like this; I'm the only one ridding my body of any inch of weight.

Words are clogged in my throat which Viktor seems to notice. He guides me slowly to the bed where we both take a seat allowing me to breathe in the silence. My longer hair is hiding my eyes to avoid the tears being seen yet again by this stupidly caring stranger. Even if he is a stranger, I'm clinging to his hand as if he were a lover. It's warm and strong which are two things I lack in my life so I'll soak it up as long as I can. I hate myself for letting him see me so weak two times in a row, but he hasn't exactly been avoiding it when prying with those questions.

“You're scared, aren't you?”

More than he could ever imagine. My life is going down the drain because of this obsession, but I can't look at food without feeling guilty. How exactly is anyone supposed to survive with that kind of conflicting life? I'm scared of telling someone, yet scared to keep going on this road leading straight off a cliff. I nod and wipe away a stray tear clinging to my lashes.

“I'm sorry for asking something that personal so quickly... I didn't know how else to bring it up.”

The question was similar to a bomb. It was the reality of my life being shoved into my face and finally brought to the surface after months of lying. I've never had someone confront me about it and that was the biggest shock. Having it put into words is something awfully terrifying.

“I don't know... maybe a year ago.”

Has it really been that long? It started as something I thought I would only do once, but after seeing the failure of my dieting, I turned to my unhealthy routine as a habit. It's only getting worse. One skipped meal turned into two and then three until I last days without eating.

“Viktor...”

I pause allowing myself to swallow a sob and bring up the most painful thing in my gut to this day; the whole reason I'm here in the first place. It takes me a good minute to get it out, but when it does the tearing claws of shame start ripping at my heart.

“A-am I still fat?”

I'm forced to bite my lip so it sounds like an average question when it's burning me alive. If anything, please let some of my effort be worth something. Tell me that every time I ruin my throat after eating that it has some kind of result. Please don't say the pain has been for nothing.

“Do you believe you're overweight?”

That's not what I want to hear. I need a yes or no just like when I asked him about my skating. He's giving me more questions and the further it goes the more difficult it is to answer. I can't look at myself in a mirror without seeing rolls along my stomach or extra folds around my legs. Viktor should know since he's sitting so close and seeing all these flaws laid out in front of him. I can't manage any speech, so he receives another nod and a firm squeeze to his hand fearing his next words.

“If we're being honest with each other, your body is beautiful... but it shouldn't matter what I think.”

It does. It matters how everyone looks at me and what they say; Being called a pig is a massive blow to my heart. How can Viktor say something so stupid when my body is so disgusting? My thick legs aren't perfect and neither is my stomach, or the extra fat on my arms. It's all horrid to look at and even worse to live with.

“Love your body the way it is. You don't need to change.”

“Stop lying to me... I'm disgusting. I-I'm too fat to do anything... I'm giving up skating now that I'm too fat to move. It's bad enough that I suck at it, but now-”

There's a finger on my lips when I look up, silencing me from continuing anything further. Viktor tilts his head ever so slightly like a confused dog. It's hard to see him clearly with my lack of glasses and the foggy vision created by unshed tears, but I'm managing well enough.

“Don't say that. Don't tell me you're giving up.”

I push away that single finger a little more violently than I wanted. Who is he to tell me what I can and can't decide. I've been through hell trying to make a career and it's killing me with each time I fail.

“I can't do it anymore...”

There's a part of him that looks angry from hearing something that simple. It's not his life so he shouldn't care whether or not I become a figure skater or a boring cashier.

“I'm not thin enough... I- I'm not perfect enough.”

“There's no such thing as perfection. Everyone has their flaws and that's okay.”

“Stop treating me like an idiot! Of course you can say things like then when you're that thin! You don't have any flaws so stop telling me what you think I want to hear.”

There I go trying to shove him away again when I'm screaming for help. I want to look like him. I want to wave some magic wand and be attractive with a slender frame like all the other athletes. That dream is dead and gone buried six feet underground where it should stay and never resurface.

“Yuuri...”

The small breath he takes tells me he's trying to turn this back to a calm, civilized conversation without me yelling at him getting us nowhere. I'm still mad at him, but I know most of that anger is fueled from my jealousy.

“I meant what I said about helping you... if you'll let me.”

How can he help me? If he's not shoving food down my throat then there's no place of him here. Diets don't work and I'm slowly killing myself by eating less and less with each passing day. There's no way a single person can help this viscous cycle. I don't want him to waste his time, but on the other end of things, I don't want to refuse the only good thing to happen to me.

“I'm not going to let you give up, but I need to know you're serious; Do you want to change?”

I nod desperately wiping the stray tears off my cheeks. I don't want to live like this anymore. I want to go back to enjoying food instead of thinking of it as a set back. I want to skate more and maybe one day enter a competition. I want to stop feeling guilty about everything that goes into my body until the point of forcing it out. I want all that and to look as good as Viktor. I really hope all of that is possible.

His gentle touch is pushing my bangs back behind my ears to he can see my eyes. My vision is still blurred, but not enough to make a difference. I don't mind Viktor being so close to me even with the odd touches every once in awhile. He gains my attention slowly pulling me close until I can faintly smell his cologne. It suits him.

“I won't stop until I know you're okay, so promise me you'll try your hardest to change.”

It's confusing how someone like him can care so much about a stranger when he has so much going for him. He has his own life and friends, so where do I fit in with all of this?

“I will... I promise.”

“We'll take it slow. And from now on I'm going to be your new coach.”

“A diet coach?”

“No. You're getting back on the ice.”

Is that his definition of slow? I never said I was going back, and on top of that I already have a coach. I pull back to see if he's seriously and his expression hasn't changed one bit. Questions are bubbling on my lips with no way to get them out.

“But-”

“Helping you improve your skating is going to be our first step. I'll train you separately from Yurio during after hour sessions. Does that sound alright?”

I have to admit that's the perfect scenario. It will be good for me to return to skating when the rink is closed to the public, except this time I won't be alone. My personal skates will be accompanied by a real coach; one who wants to see me improve and willing to get on the ice to help. I breath I've been holding in my chest finally releases as I relax into Viktor's arms to a genuine smile on my face.

“Yes... that sounds really nice.”

“We'll start tomorrow and I don't want to hear any excuses.”

My nod is silent, but it doesn't go unnoticed. The tightness in my chest is unraveling at last and my tears are drying against Viktor's shirt. Overall, I'm feeling a lot better than I was when he first stepped in here. I finally have something to look forward to when it comes to my future. I need someone to give me that extra nudge in the right direction and keep me on track, and of all people, I want Viktor to be that special someone.

 


End file.
